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WILLIE FRANK 
OF STEDLEY 


M, DE L. KENNEDY 

»» 



NEW YORK 

P. J. KENEDY & SONS 



Copyright, 1919, 

By P. J. KENEDY & SONS 





CONTENTS 


Chapter I PAQE 

He Arrives 1 

Chapter II 

At Thorne House 10 

Chapter III 

Getting Acquainted 19 

Chapter IV 

Bob and Ray 31 

Chapter V 

Hide and Seek 39 

Chapter VI 

A Ride 51 

Chapter VII 

To the Rescue 65 

Chapter VIII 

The Island by Moonlight 76 

Chapter IX 

Uncle Gerald 87 

Chapter X 

Swan Boats 99 


5 


6 


CONTENTS 


Chapter XI page 

The Man in the Checked Suit . . . 110 

Chapter XII 

The Bird Store 121 

Chapter XIII 

Gyp 132 

Chapter XIV 

Welcome Home 145 

Chapter XV 

Father Owen’s Instruction Class . . . 157 

Chapter XVI 


Lost * * * the Heir of Thorne House . 170 

Chapter XVII 

Willie-Frank and Fleet Wing .... 183 

Chapter XVIII 

A Farewell Party in Hermit’s Cave . . 192 


WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


CHAPTER I 
HE ARRIVES 

A MERRY troop of manly boys and sweet- 
faced little girls, waving hats and hands, 
stood on the platform of the small shabby 
depot of Stedley one bright afternoon in May. 

“Good-by, Father! Good-by !” they called 
eagerly, affection brimming over in their clear 
young voices. 

From the window of the receding train smiled 
back at them the kind boyish face of young Father 
Owen, curate of our Lady of Mount Carmel 
Church of Kant on, the nearest city. For Sted- 
ley, quaint, pretty little town that it was, nestling 
close to the shores of a beautiful lake, in spite of 
all its beauties was poor, very poor indeed in one 
particular. It possessed no Catholic church. 
Every Sunday one of the good priests from Kan- 
ton came down to celebrate Mass in a little low 
frame building situated near the railroad station 
on Main Street. But there was a First Holy Com- 
munion Class under instruction in that little frame 
building during these bright afternoons of our 
Lady’s month, that in the fervor and purity of 
l 


2 


WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


heart of its members could not be excelled any- 
where, north, south, east or west. 

Young Father Owen came down three after- 
noons a week now, and it was a customary and 
pretty sight for Stedleyites to watch him proceed 
on his way to the railroad station at sundown, sur- 
rounded by his ardent and admiring little dis- 
ciples. Two of the youngest members of the class 
clung to his hands, the rest circled around him, 
behind him and before him, all eagerly chatter- 
ing like excited small magpies. At the depot 
Father Owen generally placed them under the care 
of old Matthew, the station agent, to “Shoo Off” 
as Matthew expressed it, when he himself had to 
board his train. 

“I don’t like to refuse to let them come, Mat- 
thew, ’ ’ he would say pleasantly, ‘ ‘ but if you were 
not here I should feel much anxiety about leaving 
them.” 

“Sure, don’t worry about ’em, your Rever- 
ence,” honest Matt would answer grimly. “I’ll 
’tend to ’em, never you fear.” 

And ’tend to them he did, dispersing them in 
short time and good order, all but little Dolly 
Lambert, with her laughing face and big brown 
eyes. 

“Oh, Matthew, don’t you want to hear the story 
Father Owen told us to-day? It was be-au-tiful, 
Matthew.” 

“Well, well, tell it if ye must, me little lady, 
and then be hurrying along,” he would say 
gruffly. 


HE ARRIVES 


3 


And Holly, seated on the one and only baggage 
truck the station boasted of, her gay young face 
quite sweet with love and reverence now, would 
tell him in her own eager way the story of young 
Tarcisius who died with the Sacred Host clasped 
to his breast to save It from insult, of Saint Agnes 
and Saint Pancratius and many other sweet child 
saints of whom Father Owen was daily telling his 
little band. 

Meantime, the boys of the class were grouped 
around Jimmie Cleary, who, as acknowledged 
leader among those of his own age in Stedley, was 
making alluring plans for a baseball game in the 
fields back of his house “ to-morrow morning.” 

Just at this exciting moment, up Main Street 
rolled a wonderful, golden-brown automobile. The 
chauffeur stopped the car and beckoned to one of 
the lads. 

Alone on the rear seat of this gorgeous ma- 
chine sat a little figure in gray dust coat, gray 
cap and immense yellow motor goggles. But I am 
not exact when I say alone, for there were also 
two dogs. One was a snow-white poodle with a 
corn-colored ribbon perkily adorning his neck. 
The other was a black and white fox terrier with 
twinkling brown eyes. The latter wore a leather 
collar in which was inserted a tiny silver plate. 
Had you been near enough you would have seen 
engraved upon it : 


Owner, 


Twinkle, 

William Francis Thome. 


4 


WILLIE-FEANK OF STEDEEY 


Bobby Evans, a red-haired boy with a pleasant 
freckled face, crossed over to the man at the wheel 
who was bending out to speak to him. The other 
boys watched with interest the child and the two 
dogs. 

“He’s a boy!” announced Jimmie Cleary. 

“No, she’s a girl!” contradicted Ray Lester. 

‘ ‘ Girls like dolls, not dogs. I say he ’s a boy, ’ ’ 
scoffed Dick Smith. 

“Well, look at the curls,” protested Ray. 
“Boys don’t wear curls, do they?” 

True enough, the small person in the automo- 
bile did have curls such as any little girl might 
wear: long, beautiful auburn ones. 

Jimmie Cleary’s faith was not, however, so 
easily shaken. 

The child who was the cause of all this excite- 
ment could hear their remarks, and standing up 
looked at them through the yellow goggles for a 
moment, and then disappeared from sight down 
on to the floor of the machine. The black and 
white terrier, with a bark, followed. 

“Pooh!” said Ray, swinging on his heel, “she’s 
a girl all right. I knew she was. She ’s afraid ! ’ ’ 

The others watching closely, however, saw the 
gray cap and curls jerk up again, and in the hands 
of the child were oranges. 

“Catch!” a clear voice called. One slim little 
arm swept out and lo ! neither Dick, nor Ray, nor 
Ted, nor Jack was quick enough, but Jimmie 
Cleary, leaping into the air, captured the golden 
fruit with neat skill and swiftness. 


HE ARRIVES 


5 


“Ha! — ha! — ha!” laughed the pitcher. “Bow 
— wow — wow!” barked Twinkle, the terrier. 
“Yap — yap — yap!” joined in the pretty poodle. 

“Hip, — hip, — hooray! He’s a boy, like I told 
you. I said so all the time,” Jimmie Cleary 
crowed. 

“Put one here, will you!” Dick Smith yelled 
holding out his hands cupped invitingly. 

“Me too,” chimed in Ray. 

“Can you toss another as straight as that!” 
asked Ted Bemis. 

Swiftly they came with true, unerring aim, and 
as the boys caught, they cheered. 

The chauffeur was unable *to make himself 
heard for a moment. The noise was great and 
Bobby Evans was too excited to listen because he 
wanted to catch an orange also. At last the man 
turned and spoke to the automobile boy, who 
stopped the orange throwing game for a moment 
and asked in a clear young voice : 

“Do you know where Thorne House is! Which 
turn do we take next to get there ! ’ 9 

“We’ll show you, come on,” the boys shouted, 
and most of them began to lead the way by run- 
ning up the street. 

Jimmie Cleary lingered. “Thorne House is on 
Lake Street,” he said. “That’s first turn to your 
right and second turn to your left, then up a little 
hill and that’s all. It’s a big white house and 
there are lions at the door.” 

The chauffeur laughed pleasantly. “Sounds 
like the Zoo, ’ ’ he said. ‘ ‘ Thank you. ’ ’ 


8 


WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


Just as the car was about to start, the boy with 
the curls succeeded in unfastening the door of 
the automobile. 

“Jump in,” he said to Jimmie. Then looking 
at the chauffeur anxiously, he asked, “My Uncle 
wouldn’t mind, would he, Mr. Jake?” 

The man answered pleasantly, “Why no, I 
guess not. We can drop the little chap at the gate 
anyway. It’s only fair to give him a spin ; he told 
us the way.” 

Jimmie Cleary’s big eyes opened very wide in- 
deed. 

“Do you mean that I’m going to ride in there 
with you and those dogs?” he said wonderingly. 

Automobiles were scarce in the small village of 
Stedley and people who owned them were not in 
the habit of inviting small boys like Jimmie to 
share the pleasure with them. 

“Yes, yes, come in,” the other boy answered, 
laughingly merrily. “I like you. What’s your 
name, please?” 

Jimmie seated himself gingerly on the edge of 
the tan cushion and held fast to the side of the 
wonderful car as it started off with a soft pur- 
ring sound. Then, he answered bashfully : 

“Jimmie Cleary.” 

“Mine’s Willie Thorne, but almost every one 
calls me Willie-Frank,” his new friend explained. 

After that the little boys were silent for a 
moment ; both half-sat, half-stood, looking at each 
other from under their eyelashes. Shyness had 
overtaken them. The dogs paved the way for 


HE ARBIVES 


7 


their next words. Twinkle sniffed at J imm ie* a 
orange, begged and finally leaped np to lick his 
face. Curly, the poodle, slid across the cushion 
and made a playful snap at Jimmie’s hand. As 
he tried to draw it away, the mischievous Curly 
softly reached out a pink tongue and licked the 
little brown hand as much as to say : 

“I’m only fooling. I want to be friends with 
you. ’ ’ 

When Jimmie saw the tiny white ball of fur 
stretch out beside him, fluffy head on cunning little 
paws, and roguish eyes blinking at him affection- 
ately, he laughed and patted both on the head. 

“Aren’t they fine though?” he said joyously, 
finding his tongue quite suddenly. 

“Yes,” Willie-Frank said smiling. “They can 
do lots of tricks, too. This one is Twinkle. Shake 
hands with Jimmie, Twink. That’s right. Now 
Curly, be good.” 

But although the fox terrier politely offered 
Jimmie a friendly paw, haughty Curly just rolled 
over on his back and gave a little “yap. ” He cer- 
tainly looked as though he were laughing as he 
waved his four little feet in the air. Willie-Frank 
and Jimmie burst out laughing. 

Jimmie began to feel as though he had known 
this boy and his two dogs all his life. At first 
he had thought he must be asleep and dreaming, 
and that this was a fairy prince who had asked 
him to ride in a golden chariot. He liked this 
Thome boy very much. 

The touring car swept past the other boys just 


8 


WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


here, and when they saw Jimmie sitting beside the 
stranger and with both dogs trying to make 
friends with him, they set np a shout of glee. 

The boys of Stedley, for the most part, were 
generous and manly. They all liked Jimmie 
Cleary, who could play games and run races better 
than any other small boy in town, and who was 
always willing to share his playthings or candy 
or fruit with the rest. 

“Hi — Jimmie,” they called out, “you’re in 
luck . 9 9 

One of them said, “Let’s cut across lots and 
meet them at Thorne House.” 

“See you later, Jim,” they shouted and soon all 
one could see were knickerbockers and strong little 
heels disappearing over the rail fence which sur- 
rounded a pasture where patient cows were await- 
ing their owner to let down the bars and call them 
home. 

“I wish they could have a ride, too,” Willie- 
Frank said, turning around to kneel up on the 
seat and watch the boys as they raced off. 4 4 This 
is my Uncle’s car, though, and he might not like 
to have me ask so many to ride.” 

“Which turn did you tell me to take, young 
man?” the chauffeur demanded at this point. 
Sometimes the directions given by small boys are 
misleading, and Mr. Jake wished to be certain 
that Jimmie knew what he was talking about. 

Both boys stood up and grasped the back of the 
seat which Mr. Jake occupied. Jimmie earnestly 
repeated his former statement and Willie-Frank 


HE AEEIVES 


9 


smiled affectionately at him while he talked. The 
dogs both hopped down off the rear seat. The 
poodle sat on the floor of the car with his cunning 
little face raised to his young master’s. Twinkle 
stood on his hind legs and tried to reach up to the 
back of the seat which the boys were holding fast 
to. 

“Are you going to stay at Thome House?” 
Jimmie asked Willie-Frank when he had finished 
speaking to Mr. Jake. 

‘ ‘ I don ’t know, ’ ’ Willie said. 4 ‘ Miss Debby told 
me Uncle Gerald had sent for me. Mr. Jake came 
to get me this morning. Do you know my Uncle ? ’ ’ 

Before Jimmie could answer him, Willie con- 
tinued excitedly: “He’s an inventor, Miss Debby 
said. I’m hoping he will tell me all about air- 
ships and U-boats and things like that, you know; 
but Mr. Jake said he’s cross and will make me 
toe the mark.” 

“Didn’t you ever see him?” Jimmie asked, his 
eyes very big with surprise. 

“Yes,” Willie-Frank told him, “but I was little 
then and I don’t remember him at all.” 

“We have a picture of him at my house,” Jim- 
mie said. “My Papa and he were chums. They 
went to school together. I like him, too. He was 
down in South America once and he sent me a 
baby alligator, but it died.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, did he ? He sent me a monkey, that same 
time I guess. It was a winner,” eagerly chimed 
in Willie-Frank. 

“Have you got it now?” eagerly asked Jimmie. 


CHAPTER II 


AT THORNE HOUSE 

W HEN my Daddy went to Heaven last 
year,” Willie-Frank explained, “the law- 
yer sent my monkey away and he sent me 
to school. I don’t know where Gyp is. Perhaps 
he died like the alligator. I liked him ever so 
much,” he finished with a tiny sigh. 

“Well, I guess you’ll like Mr. Thorne,” Jimmie 
told him cheerfully. ‘ ‘ The servants up at Thorne 
House always chase us boys away if we go up to 
play at the fountain, but I guess he wouldn’t mind. 
I like him, anyhow.” 

“There’s Thorne House! See the lions!” 
Willie-Frank looked at the great white house 
standing far back from the street. Sure enough, 
there were Jimmie’s famous lions. Huge brown 
stone creatures lying at either side of the steps 
as though on guard. 

“Thank you ever so much for my ride,” said 
Jimmie warmly as he prepared to leave the car. 

“Will you come up and play with me to-morrow 
and bring the other fellows, too? I’ll tell my 
Uncle that I like you all,” Willie said. 

Jimmie’s face was aglow with happy smiles. 
“Sure we’ll come,” he answered. “We’d love 
to.” 


10 


AT THORNE HOUSE 


11 


“Have some more oranges? See, I’ve got a 
basket full. Miss Debby packed tbem for me. 
She said I might get hungry riding,’ ’ explained 
our hero. 

“ Thank you, thank you,” Jimmie cried out as 
Willie filled his arms and hands. 

Then the automobile started once more, and 
with a wave of his cap and a brave “good-by,” 
the fairy prince was borne up into the grounds of 
Thorne House. The boys who had just reached 
the gate cheered him lustily, and indeed he looked 
a gallant little figure standing up in the car wav- 
ing back at them. Lilac bushes lined the driveway 
up which the touring-car rolled. 

“Here we are, sir,” said pleasant Mr. Jake a 
few minutes later, stopping the car in front of the 
big brown lions of Thome House. 

Suddenly Willie’s heart began to pound like a 
trip-hammer. Had he been younger than seven 
years old, he might have cried, so frightened did 
he feel. When a little boy has lost a dear Mamma 
and Papa, and has been living in a private board- 
ing-school for some months with two dear old 
ladies in charge who petted him and favored him, 
it is rather lonesome to come all alone to an Uncle 
you have never seen, and who lives in a big white 
house guarded by brown stone lions. This Uncle 
was the elder brother of Willie ’s dear, dead Papa, 
and he was a very clever, busy man. He was 
“Somewhere in France” when his brother, Wil- 
lie’s father, fell fighting valiantly for the French 
cause at “the front.” The wounded soldier, Don- 


12 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


aid Thome, lived long enough to see his elder 
brother and to confide to his care his beloved little 
son, Willie-Frank. 

Then Uncle Gerald, at that great distance, did 
everything in his power to make life comfortable 
and happy for his small nephew, until the impor- 
tant service which he, through his latest inven- 
tion, was offering France, would permit him time 
enough to return to this country and assume the 
full responsibility of his dear young charge. 

Only yesterday Miss Debby had told Willie that 
his Uncle had come home. 

Willie liked Miss Debby and Miss Anne very 
much, but he did not like to wear his hair long 
and be kissed a great deal; and he hated velvet 
suits with lace collars. He was really so much of 
a boy that it was right for him to object to being 
coaxed into acting like a nice, gentle, little girl. 

Miss Debby and Miss Anne meant to be very 
kind indeed, but they did not understand that 
their training might change Willie from a manly 
boy into what other boys would call a 4 ‘ sissy. ’ ’ 

The automobile driven by Mr. Jake had arrived 
at the school early that morning, and Willie had 
been tenderly embraced by the kind old ladies; 
the rear of the automobile had been filled by their 
good-natured cook with cakes and fruit of all 
kinds ; the other little boys at the school had given 
Willie, who was a favorite with them, too, tops 
and marbles and games to remember them by. He 
had promised to send them all letters and post- 
cards and so, amid the dear old ladies’ blessings 


AT THORNE HOUSE 


13 


and the shouts of his little companions, Willie- 
Frank had left “The Misses Wallis’ Private 
School.” 

He had asked Mr. Jake what his Uncle was like. 
Was he old? Was he jolly, or was he cross? 

“I don’t know,” Mr. Jake answered with his 
cheery laugh, “I’ve never seen him, though I’ve 
worked for him two years now. His secretary 
hired me. I’ve never been to his house in Stedley 
before. They say it’s some place, little sir.” 

After guiding the car carefully through a dan- 
gerous traffic section of the big city which they 
were leaving, Mr. Jake continued: 

“Guess he’s a terror. All his servants are 
scared to death of him. Pays well, but expects 
them to do right by him whether he’s here to look 
after things or not. Guess you’ll have to toe the 
mark with the old gentleman, Sonny, from all I 
hear. ’ ’ 

No wonder Willie Thorne began to feel fright- 
ened. Wouldn ’t you ? Uncle Gerald had been pic- 
tured by Jake as though he were an ogre, and 
here was Willie-Frank, the fairy prince, riding 
up to the door of the ogre’s “enchanted castle.” 

Lo! the small boy and his two dogs left the 
machine and climbed the steps. The front door 
opened wide and a tall, solemn butler bade Willie 
to enter: 

“This way, sir, Mrs. Pepper is waiting for 
you,” he announced grandly, waving his hand to- 
wards a grim, dark room. 

Soon a little boy with two dogs “at heel” stood 


14 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


before a cross-looking elderly lady in a black 
sateen dress. She sat in state in a high-backed 
chair and she held a large bunch of keys in her 
hands. Was this the witch of the enchanted 
castle, Willie wondered. 

“You are Master William, I suppose,” she be- 
gan sorrowfully; “your Uncle could not get here 
as soon as he expected to. You must go to your 
room and stay there until you are called to tea. 
Don’t carry mud over the stairs on your feet, 
don’t scratch the furniture and don’t make any 
noise. Your Uncle wouldn’t like it,” she ended 
with, and then pressing a bell she turned Willie 
over to the trim little maid who answered it, 
saying: 

* ‘ Take Master William to the owl room and have 
those dogs sent to the stable.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, please may I have my dogs with me for a 
little while?” asked lonely Willie-Frank. 

“Dogs in the house! No, sir. Go with Rosalie 
and remember never , never to question anything I 
say. Your Uncle wouldn’t like it.” 

Willie followed Rosalie up two flights of stairs. 
Once he stopped and looked down through the 
banisters. Curly, the poodle, was whining dole- 
fully, and Twinkle was giving sad little growls as 
a man servant bore them out of their little mas- 
ter ’s sight. 

“Here we are,” Rosalie said pleasantly as she 
threw open the door of a large, richly furnished 
room. 

As Willie-Frank stepped in its bigness and dark 


AT THORNE HOUSE 


15 


shadows added to his homesickness. It may seem 
strange to think that he could be lonesome for a 
boarding-school, but a sleeping apartment with a 
big four-posted mahogany bed and heavy window 
draperies, compared to a small, bright, airy dormi- 
tory shared with three other little boys, was rather 
discouraging, we must admit. 

He stood on the mat near the door and squeezed 
his hands together in a big effort to keep back 
unmanly tears. Rosalie patted him kindly on the 
head. 

‘ ‘ This is called the owl room because there is a 
picture in here of one of the largest owls ever 
seen. They say your Uncle tamed it and called it 
Beppo or some such name. When it died he felt 
dreadfully, so Baxter the butler says. Here is 
the picture.’ ’ 

Rosalie switched on the electric lights suddenly, 
and guided Willie-Frank to a space of the wall 
between the two deep-seated windows. There 
hung the portrait of his Uncle’s famous owl. 

Willie-Frank forgot that he was tired, hungry 
and lonesome, forgot that he had come very near 
to tears. He looked at “ Beppo” and then smiled 
up at friendly Rosalie. 

“He is pretty big, isn’t he?” he remarked. 

“That isn’t all you’ll find in this room, either,” 
Rosalie said mysteriously. 

Willie-Frank gazing around saw prints and en- 
larged snap-shots and beautifully framed pictures 
of many kinds of wonderful birds. This was truly 
a room any boy would like, after he stepped across 


16 WILLIE-FEANK OF STEDLEY 


its threshold and the dazzling glow of a chandelier 
had put the dark shadows to flight. 

4 ‘What else will I find, please ?” onr hero asked 
with a little thrill of delight at the thought of a 
surprise. 

“Over there in the closet! I saw it one day 
when I was cleaning! Come, let’s go and look.” 

Rosalie put her fingers to her lips, smiled gayly 
and tip-toed toward the closet. 

Willie-Frank was enjoying himself immensely 
now. He tip-toed also and thought this kind girl 
with her white lace apron and fly-away cap the 
best playmate he had found among grown-ups, 
since dear “Daddy” went to Heaven to see 
“Mamma.” 

“One — two — three,” Rosalie chanted, “open 
sesame.” 

Why, she even knew about Ali Baba! Willie- 
Frank clapped his hands merrily and laughed. 

“Hush,” said the girl, opening the door on a 
crack, and so the game went on until, little by 
little, the closed door was opened to its widest, 
and there among a man’s riding suits and shoot- 
ing jackets stood an old-fashioned rocking-horse. 
It had been a wonderful toy in its day and even 
now, as Rosalie and Willie-Frank dragged it out 
into the center of the owl room, its gray and black 
body looked quite bright and new. Its yellow 
glass eyes were shining as the electric lights fell 
upon them, its gay scarlet harness and brilliant 
red rockers made a steed worthy of any little 
modern boy’s admiration. What it it was not the 


AT THORNE HOUSE 


17 


newest kind of rocking-horse ! What if the marks 
of other hoys’ restless feet were on its wood- work! 
What if the straps of the stirrups were worn and 
old! 

Willie-Frank gave a shout of glee. 

Rosalie chanted merrily, “I have a little pony. 
His name is Dapple Gray.” 

Dapple Gray stood quite high, Willie found 
when he tried to throw one chubby leg across the 
saddle. Rosalie held the frisky steed for him 
while he mounted. Then with another pat on the 
head she bade him good-by. 

“ The bath-room is right in here, dear,” she said 
throwing open another door and switching on 
more lights. “If you will wash your face and 
hands I’ll come back in about ten minutes to fix 
your hair. Don’t be afraid and have a good ride 
while you are waiting for me. By-by.” 

“Good-by,” called Willie-Frank heartily. “I 
guess I’m going to like this house,” he confided 
to Dapple Gray as he started on a gallop which 
lasted until he remembered that Rosalie wanted 
him to wash his face and hands. Soon he had the 
faucets in the bath-room making merry music, 
while soap-suds festooned his dripping curls and 
his suit. 

When Rosalie returned she found him busy sail- 
ing an immense bar of soap in the marble bowl. 

Rosalie, laughing good-naturedly, called Willie- 
Frank from his soapy game and soon she was at 
work upon his tangled curls. Her quick but gentle 
fingers soon had the little boy ready. 


18 WILLIE-FKANK OF STEDLEY 


His supper was served to him in the fine old- 
fashioned dining-room by a kind man-servant 
named Jean, who proved to be Rosalie’s brother. 

He saw no more of cross Mrs. Pepper that night. 
Bedtime came, Willie’s earnest childish prayers 
were said and gentle Rosalie tucked him into the 
big, high-posted bed. At last she turned out the 
lights and sat down in a low rocker by the window. 
The moonlight made a silver pathway across the 
carpet and numberless stars smiled down on 
Willie-Frank. 

Rosalie told the child that her room was next 
to his and that if he felt timid during the night 
he could call and she would come to him at once. 

‘ ‘Oh, thank you,” chuckled Willie-Frank, slip- 
ping down out of sight under the bedclothes. Then 
in muffled tones, roguishly, but proudly, he 
added : 

“I’m a boy, Miss Rosalie, even if I have got 
horrid curls. I’m not scary, but thanks just the 
same.” 

Soon Rosalie began to sing. She had a sweet 
young voice, and the pretty lullaby made Willie- 
Frank feel as though he were in a hammock under 
swaying pine trees and was being tossed, to and 
fro, by gentle breezes. Slowly he crept back up 
to the pillows again from his hiding place in the 
middle of the bed, his heavy eyelids dropped and 
he was — fast asleep. 

His first day in Stedley was over. 


CHAPTER III 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 

W HILE Willie Thorne lay sleeping with his 
cherished harmonica tightly clasped in his 
dimpled fingers, Jimmie Cleary, too, had 
embarked for the “Land of Nod.” His dark head 
was full of rosy dreams for the morrow when, as 
he fondly hoped, his new friend, Willie-Frank, and 
himself, as well as the other boys, would play ball 
on the smooth wide driveway at Thorne House, or 
climb up on the stone lions, or sail small boats at 
the fountain. 

“Jimmie, Jimmie,” called gentle Mrs. Cleary 
outside his door the following morning. No an- 
swer and she was about to enter when Ellie, Jim- 
mie’s big sister, ran lightly up the stairs. 

“Are you looking for Jimmie, Mother?” she 
asked pleasantly. “Why, he was up and out an 
hour ago.” 

“Without his breakfast?” Mrs Cleary said in 
alarm. 

“Oh, no, I coaxed him to drink a glass of milk 
and really forced him to swallow his oatmeal, 
and then off he went in the direction of Lake 
Street,” Ellie explained, laughing merrily. 

“Oh, my dear, I hope he will not bother the 
people at Thorne House so early in the day. Per- 
19 


20 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


haps the little hoy should not have invited him at 
all. I didn’t think he would take the child’s words 
to heart so, did you?” 

“I’m afraid he did,” said Ellie, “but Jimmie is 
a little gentleman, Mother mine, and if he sees 
that he is not wanted, he will come straight home, 
I am sure. He was traveling too fast to hear my 
voice this morning or I would have called him 
back.” 

At a very early hour Baxter, the butler at 
Thome House, heard the heavy bronze knocker 
on the big front door rise and fall several times. 
When he answered its summons what was his sur- 
prise to see a small boy tumble into the hall at 
his feet. 

“Oh,” cried Jimmie Cleary rising and rubbing 
his knees. “You came too quick. I was trying 
to reach that big handle again and I had to stand 
on my tip-toes.” 

“What do you want?” asked Baxter in a ter- 
rible voice. He was looking now past Jimmie 
at what seemed to him an army of small boys on 
the rose-path which led from the gate. There 
were only six to be sure, but as they were all 
laughing and talking they made a considerable 
amount of noise. 

“What do you want?” demanded the butler for 
the second time. 

Jimmie removed his cap and smiled confidingly. 
“We’ve come to play with Willie-Frank,” he said. 
“Please may he come out?” 

“Sure, we’ve come to play with Bill. Where is 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 21 

he anyway?” an older, rougher-looking boy at the 
end of the line chimed in. 

“ Baxter, who are these dirty children? Why 
are they at the front door?” It was Mrs. Pepper 
who spoke and her voice sent a chill over Jimmie. 
He knew as soon as he saw her face that the house- 
keeper at Thorne House was not friendly to him 
or the rest of the boys and his heart quailed. 
Keeping up his courage, however, he smiled once 
more and explained. 

“We came to play with Willie-Frank. He asked 
us to yesterday.” 

“Go away,” Mrs. Pepper said sternly. “You 
naughty, noisy children. Never come here again. 
Do you hear me? Didn’t you see the sign, ‘No 
trespassing?’ ” 

Jimmie turned and walked down the big stone 
steps without even a parting glance at his beloved 
lions. On he went to the gate followed by his 
chums. All were, perhaps, sadder, wiser little 
boys. 

“ ’Tain’t trespassing to visit any one, is it?” 
called back the older boy with the rough voice as 
they went out the gate. “Huh — we don’t want to 
play with that little sissy-boy anyway. Wait until 
we catch him outside some day, we’ll fix him, the 
little dude. ’ ’ Then with an Indian war-whoop he 
ran down the street. 

Jimmie Cleary soon overtook him: “Now see 
here, Ted Bemis, don’t you call Willie Thorne 
any more names,” the smaller lad said, facing him 
squarely. “He’s my friend and I like him, even 


22 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


if that Pepper lady won't let ns play with him. 
You had some of his oranges yesterday and you 
ate 'em, every one of 'em, so it isn't fair to call 
him, names. He was good to us all, wasn't he, 
boys?" 

“Yes" — “Sure" — “He's all right," chimed in 
the others. 

Ted Bemis laughed. “I only wanted to frighten 
that old lady," he said. “I guess the little boy 
wouldn't be afraid of me. He's some fellow if he 
does wear curls." 

Ted Bemis was a good-hearted boy and very 
brave. Jimmie Cleary was fond of him, but Jim- 
mie's Mother and in fact the mothers of the other 
boys thought Ted too rough and too big to be a 
suitable playmate for the younger lads. These 
ladies felt sorry for him, however, because he 
had no parents and had to work hard on the farm 
where he lived with old Mr. Frost. For this 
reason they did not forbid the children to play 
with him, but tried in many ways to make the lad 
gentle by kindness. 

Meanwhile, Willie-Frank, who had heard the 
voices, stood at the window of the owl-room, his 
rumpled curls bright against the silken draperies. 
Barefooted, in pink pajamas, he watched with 
sorrowful eyes Jimmie Cleary's dismissal from 
Thorne House. 

Had any of the boys looked up they might have 
seen something very like their own disappoint- 
ment in the sorrowful little face above, but they 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 23 

disappeared quickly and Willie Thorne turned 
away. 

After breakfast kind Jean (whose real name 
was Eugene) showed Willie-Frank where to find 
Curly and Twinkle. Then our hero very happily 
decided to go and look for Mr. Jake. It did not 
take him long to discover the path which led 
straight to the great square of ground facing the 
stables and the garage. 

Some one called: “Oo-ho-o-hoo !” right above 
his head. 

He looked up but there was no one in sight. 
The sound had come from the stables, Willie felt 
sure, so he rushed overdo the open door, his dogs 
gladly following him. 

‘ ‘ Hello !” said a voice. It belonged to a man 
who looked like a carpenter. 

“Did you call me?” the lad asked. 

“No, ’twas Jack. He’s up aloft there.’ ’ 

Willie’s eyes traveled upwards and saw far, 
far above, amid the topmost rafters of the old- 
fashioned barn, a boy of about fourteen years of 
age. He was sitting astride a beam and was peer- 
ing out of a tiny window which overlooked the 
driveway where Willie-Frank had stood. 

“How did he get up there?” Willie asked 
eagerly. 

“Climbed, like a cat as far as I can tell you, 
Sonny! Jack’s a caution when it comes to climb- 
ing. Ought to belong to a circus I tell him. Now, 
just what are you going to do, Bub? Mustn’t try 
to follow his lead. Sho — you’re too small and 


24 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


those beams are too high ; you ’d surely hurt your- 
self.’ ? 

The last remarks were occasioned by the sight 
of dauntless Willie-Frank attempting to reach a 
peg on one of the posts which supported the near- 
est hayloft. 

The carpenter’s remonstrance came just a sec- 
ond too late. Climbing was one of the things 
Willie-Frank liked best to do. He really must get 
up somewhere near that big boy so far above. He 
had gained the first peg before the carpenter had 
finished speaking. From the second he called back 
happily: 

“I’m not going to fall, sir. I’ll hold on tight. 
Ship ahoy up there ! ” he yelled. 

4 'Aye, aye, Matey,” called back the lad named 
Jack. 

Willie-Frank was delighted and reached the 
third peg in his excitement. 

The carpenter watched him with a smile. 

The two dogs barked wildly, standing deserted 
by their master on the floor of the barn. Then 
Twinkle, with his usual brightness, found a stair- 
way that led to the same hay-loft towards which 
Willie-Frank was climbing, and soon stood near 
the edge amid the hay, wagging his tail and ready 
to greet the boy when he reached the loft. 

Flushed and laughing Willie tumbled up on to 
the dusty, hay-strewn floor, having managed all 
the pegs with credit. 

“Hi!” said a voice. It was Jack who spoke. 
He had scrambled and slid down from his high 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 


25 


perch unnoticed by our hero who had been quite 
busy, too busy to watch him as the peril of climb- 
ing grew greater. This boy had a merry face and 
curly red hair. He wore blue overalls and a hat 
without a brim. He was chewing a straw but 
stopped long enough to smile good-humoredly at 
the smaller lad. 

‘ ‘ Hello, ’ ’ he repeated. ‘ ‘ Got any more oranges 
to give away ? Ho! Ho! Ho!” 

“Is he the chap that fired the oranges to 
Bob and the rest!” called out Jack’s father from 
below. 

“Yes,” nodded Jack. 

“Well, well,” exclaimed the carpenter in a loud 
voice. “You are a nice sort of boy, Sonny, sure 
enough. I said so from the first.” 

“Bob is my young brother,” explained Jack. 
“He told us all about you last night. He thinks 
you are all right.” Jack was smiling at Willie 
Thorne with great friendliness. 

“Oh, which one of the boys was Bob?” ques- 
tioned the little lad eagerly. “I remember how 
they all looked, you see, but I don’t know any of 
their names, ’cept just Jimmie Cleary.” 

“Oh, Bob has red hair like mine,” laughed 
Jack. 

“I remember him now,” Willie cried joyfully. 
“He was the first one we spoke to. Mr. Jake 
called him over to the car to ask him the way. Is 
he around here anywhere?” 

Willie-Frank was longing to welcome as a play- 


26 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


mate any one of those delightful boys with whom 
he had become acquainted yesterday. 

“No, he’s at home, but it is not his fault. He’d 
be up here to play with yon if he had his way. 
Come on down now and see what Father and I 
have been putting up for you.” 

They clattered over the stairs together, Twinkle 
bounding after them. 

“See here,” called Mr. Evans, the carpenter. 
“I have been working on something that you’ll 
like, I fancy, for the last hour. Right glad I was 
to do it, too, sir, for as I said before I say again, 
you are a nice sort of a youngster, that you are I ’ ’ 

Our hero looked around the barn and saw hang- 
ing in the very center of it one of the finest swings 
a child could desire. The ropes which formed 
it were new and strong and were suspended from 
the huge beam above upon which Jack had been 
located so recently. The seat of this swing was 
wide and was made of a great polished hard-pine 
board. 

“This is the rope that Jack climbed up there 
to fix, ’ ’ said Mr. Evans. “Do you like it, Sonny? ’ ’ 

“Like it? Hurrah! Yes, sir; I do ever so 
much and I like this barn, too,” and Willie waved 
his arms around to indicate that he included 
everything in sight in this shout of praise. 

‘ 4 This is the old barn, ’ ’ the carpenter answered. 
“The other stables are new and so is the garage, 
but Mr. Thorne wants the old building to stay 
just as it used to be when he was a boy. It hasn’t 
been remodeled one bit. They keep the hay and 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 27 

tools and a few farm wagons in here now and 
that’s about all.” 

Willie gazed around with shining eyes. Two 
great hay-mows were on either side over long lines 
of old-fashioned stalls. A deep earthen pit lined 
with stones and paved with cement sank down to 
some distance on the right. Here were stored 
bags of meal and other fodder. The center of 
the old barn had a rough plank floor. 

“Such a jolly place to play,” cried out Willie- 
Frank exultingly. 

Sunbeams were sifting down through the cracks 
and crannies, bathing the wonderful swing in gold, 
and through the big open doors of the barn crept 
in sweet odors from garden and meadow. 

“Your Uncle wired down early this morning, 
Baxter told me,” went on Mr. Evans; “he or- 
dered me to stop whatever I was doing to put up 
this plaything for you. You’re a lucky little boy, 
sir, to have an Uncle that’s so kind.” 

“I think he’s just the nicest ever!” agreed 
Willie-Frank heartily. “I love him but I never 
saw him. Do you know what he looks like f ” 

“No,” laughed Mr. Evans, “I’m a new-comer 
in town, but folks that remember him as a boy say 
he was a square, manly chap, sort of quiet, but 
always pleasant-like. Well, I must be off, Sonny. 
Have a good time and good luck to you.” 

“If you hop into the swing I’ll give you a 
push,” said friendly Jack. 

It did not take the child long to obey and soon, 
swung by the older boy’s sturdy arms, he was 


28 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


flying out into the sunlight one moment and back 
into the dusky shadows the next. 

At last Willie-Frank, looking down as he swept 
past the hay-mows, proposed to Jack that they 
“let the old cat die.” 

Thinking he was tired, Jack obligingly stepped 
aside laughing, thus permitting the swing to 
slacken its speed slowly. Soon the smaller boy 
jumped to the floor and said, tossing back his 
troublesome curls: 

“Now you get in and I'll push you.” 

How heartily Jack laughed then. He patted 
Willie on the head and said: 

“That's mighty nice of you. Thank you, I 
will take a turn at it but don't try to push me 
and I'll show you a few stunts.” 

Willie-Frank climbed up and sat on the edge 
of one of the empty stalls, hugging his knees and 
looking much pleased over the prospects of Jack's 
“stunts.” 

My! What was there the big boy couldn't do? 
First he stood up in the swing and soon had it 
swaying back and forth at a great rate, then he 
seized the strong rope on either side and actually 
turned heels over head and back to normal posi- 
tion again. Standing on the pine seat of the 
swing once more he bowed, smiled to an imaginary 
audience as the bareback riders sometimes do at 
a circus. 

Willie-Frank clapped his hands and shouted: 

“Do it again! Do it again!” and finally after 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 29 

the second performance asked, “Will you show 
me how to do it! I’d like to try it myself.” 

Jack, delighted with his little friend’s praise, 
proceeded to do a great many more agile tricks 
such as climbing up one side of the rope hand 
over hand and sliding down on the other, bowing 
jauntily as he reached his starting point safely. 

“I must go now,” he exclaimed, taking a flying 
leap out of the swing from quite a height. “But 
say, don’t try to do any of those things I did, 
will you! You have to learn them little by little, 
you see. I’m lots older than you. Now if you 
promise me not to try them when you are alone, 
I promise you I’ll teach you all I know as fast as 
you can learn it. Is it a bargain ! ’ ’ 

“Yes,” nodded Willie-Frank and somehow as 
he looked at him Jack knew that he could be relied 
on to keep his word honorably. 

“Must you go really! Can’t you play a little 
longer with me!” pleaded Willie-Frank as he 
watched Jack pick up a small box of nails and 
tuck his hammer into the pocket of his overalls. 

‘ ‘ Sorry. I ’d love to stay, you know, ’ ’ the other 
answered regretfully, “but I promised to mend a 
chicken-house for Mother before dinner so I must 
be off. I’ll come back this afternoon to help Fa- 
ther though, and if I can spare a minute I ’ll come 
out here to see you. Want to go as far as the 
meadow gate with me!” 

Willie assented gladly and as the two boys went 
out into the sunshine Curly and Twinkle ran ahead 
of them with joyful barks. Twinkle had found 


30 WXLLIE-FKANK OF STEDLEY 


the old bam very interesting and meant to return 
there sometime soon to investigate a few rat holes 
which he had discovered, but aristocratic Curly 
thought out-of-doors much pleasanter than a dusty 
old place which made one sneeze and cough. 

“Well, good-by. We’ll have some more fun to- 
morrow,” said the kind, older lad when they 
reached the meadow gate. 

“Good-by,” laughed Willie-Frank and then he 
ran back to Thorne House with Curly and Twinkle 
frisking about him. 

The lunch bell was just ringing as he dashed in 
at the side entrance, and through the long halls. 

Stately Baxter so far forgot his dignity as to 
smile kindly at the happy, small boy. 


CHAPTER IV 


BOB AND RAY 

T HERE was one spot on the Thorne estate 
from which the village boys of Stedley had 
never been driven away. This was the old 
pier which jutted out over the shining waters of 
Stedley Lake, and therefore the children were free 
to fish from the landing. Those who could swim 
dived in perfect freedom from the ancient but 
sturdy springing-board. The boat-house was un- 
locked, so offered its hospitable shelter on rainy 
days. 

Willows, maples, elms and pines formed a shady 
as well as beautiful background. There were 
plenty of stunted bushes, high weeds and meadow- 
grass, from which formidable ambush Ted Bemis, 
as Tecumseh, an Indian brave, waged sham battles 
upon the forces of the United States Army under 
General Jimmie Cleary. 

Of late, however, the boys under Ted’s leader- 
ship were busy, whenever play-time brought them 
to the old battle-field, making “dug-outs” and 
miniature trenches. They were all members now 
of one army over which floated from the boat- 
house the Stars and Stripes. No one was willing 
to play the part of the enemy these days, so only 
31 


32 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


imaginary foes were pursued and captured when 
Ted and Jimmie and their comrades rushed gal- 
lantly 4 ‘ over the top.” 

While Willie-Frank hurried through the halls 
of Thorne House, two small friends of his tramped 
up from the village to the pier. 

Both carried fishing-rods. Ray Lester’s was 
new, a splendid one, jointed with a reel. He had 
a shiny tin pail in one hand. 

Bobby Evans had a home-made pole, cut and 
fashioned for him by kind Jack, his elder brother. 
He swung an old tin can by its rusty cover and 
whistled merrily. 

‘ ‘Look out there, Bob, or you’ll lose your 
worms,” cautioned Ray, peeping into his own 
little pail to see that his were safe. 

“ Guess not,” laughed Boh pleasantly as he 
dropped the can down on the landing. “Now, I’ll 
hunt for the hooks,” he said, rummaging through 
his pockets. 

Ray forgot the glory of his new rod and gleam- 
ing pail, immediately. Bob’s pockets always con- 
tained so many interesting things. He was piling 
up quite a collection already on the plank in front 
of him. 

Ray was on his knees by this time among the 
treasures. 

“What’s this?” he asked holding up a sticky, 
pinkish substance. 

“Candy, try it,” remarked Bob generously. 

Ray munched contentedly for a moment and 
then exclaimed: 


BOB AND KAY 


33 


“Where did you get such dandy worms ?” He 
was peering into the old tin can now. 

“Dug them in the back yard early this morn- 
ing. Where did you get those ?” asked Bob in 
turn. 

“I bought them from Dick Smith for two 
cents.” 

“They don’t look very juicy,” said Bob crit- 
ically. “You may have some of mine. How’s 
that for a hook?” 

Ray was too busy with Bob ’s jack-knife to hear 
the question. It was a wonderful knife. Every 
boy in Bob’s circle of friends longed to own its 
duplicate. It had ever so many blades. Of course, 
one was broken, but who minds such a small defect 
in an instrument which contains a cork-screw, 
a button-hook and a gimlet? 

Bob started to refill his pockets. His collection 
comprised marbles, keys, rusty nails, old strings, 
a few peanuts, some kernels of popcorn, stamps, 
a foreign coin, and a small fish hook. 

“Whoop,” cried Ray, “what’s this?” 

“Only Toto,” answered Bob calmly, as a queer 
little toad hopped away as fast as he could go. 

“Want me to catch him?” asked Ray. 

“No, Jack said it was mean to keep him in my 
stuffy old pockets. I popped him in yesterday. 
I meant to tame him but I guess he’d rather look 
out for himself. Let him go. Now let’s get start- 
ed fishing before the other fellows come or they’ll 
drive the fish away fooling and diving.” 

Soon they were seated side by side at the end 


34 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


of the pier. Bob was bare-footed. Ray wore tan 
stockings and sneakers. Bob was an earnest 
angler if he was small, but Ray liked to loll around 
and talk. Bob kept his keen blue eyes on his cork 
and said nothing unless we take into considera- 
tion an occasional “sh-sh-sh,” by which he urged 
silence upon Ray. 

“Somebody’s on the island,” whispered Ray 
at last. 

Then Bob did look up. 

The island was a pretty green knoll, sheltered 
by pines situated in the center of the lake. It 
was a glorious picnic ground. Ellie Cleary, who 
could pole a raft, row a dory or paddle a canoe 
quite skillfully, sometimes took the younger set 
over to enjoy a basket lunch there Saturday after- 
noons. These excursions were very popular and 
every small boy and girl loved to receive an invi- 
tation from Jimmie Cleary to an island party. 
The notes were generally decorated and printed 
by Ellie. Very often they were done on birch 
bark, rolled up and tied with ribbon grass. Jim- 
mie delivered them in person with a happy smile 
and eager : 

“Hope you’ll come!” 

We will hear more of these interesting affairs 
in another chapter. 

“Who do you suppose it is?” whispered Bob, 
not wishing to frighten his fish away by loud talk- 
ing and yet frankly curious about the person who 
was moving in and out among the trees on the 
island. 


BOB AND BAY 


35 


“It’s a man,” volunteered Ray, glad of any 
excitement. “I wonder how he got there though. 
I don’t see any boat on the shore.” 

“Perhaps it’s on the other side,” said Bob 
softly. 

“Wish we could go over,” grumbled Ray. “It 
would be lots better fun fishing from the roof of 
Hermit’s Cave.” 

“Sh-sh-sh-h-h,” hissed Bob. 

The cork on his line was acting in a very lively 
fashion. He tried to scramble to his feet to get 
a stronger hold while he landed his catch, but 
he bumped against the railing of the pier and 
stumbled backwards. The fish gave a powerful 
tug and in a moment would probably have been off 
into the depths of the lake carrying line, cork, 
sinker and pole after it, had not two hands 
gripped Bob’s rod just in time. 

Steadily the newcomer “pulled in” for a second, 
then losing his bottled-up patience he swung the 
line into the air with a howl of delight. 

“Look out for the tree,” shouted Bob, on his 
feet again, flushed and eager with excitement. 

“Yes, look out!” screamed Ray, dropping his 
own rod and jumping up and down. 4 ‘ Land him, 
why don’t you? Pshaw! he’s got your line all 
tangled up in those bushes, Bob.” 

1 ‘ Just you wait a minute, ’ ’ some one laughed — 
“zip! I’ve got it clear, hurrah!” 

True enough, the tearing sound of green leaves 
cut away by the strong fish line was followed by 
something between a splash and a flop and on the 


36 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 

stout planks of the pier lay Bob’s shiny “c^tch” 
— a handsome pickerel. 

“Say — isn’t he a beauty!” gleefully cried the 
proud fisherman who had rushed to Bob’s rescue. 

“You bet,” agreed Bob heartily, bending over 
the captive and skillfully unhooking it. 

“Oh, hello!” said Ray cordially, after taking a 
good look at the strange lad who was beaming 
down at the fish with a radiant face. 

It was Willie Thorne. 

“Hi-yi!” he cried, “but I’m glad I helped you 
catch that fish. I’ve always wanted to go fishing. 
Isn’t it fun?” 

He was on his knees beside Bob now and Ray 
joined them, but while Willie-Frank had eyes only 
for the unlucky pickerel, his companions could 
do nothing but stare at him. At last Bob said 
eagerly : 

“I’m glad you came along just then. I’d have 
lost my fish when I tumbled. Ray never would 
have caught hold of that rod in time.” 

“Huh,” scoffed Ray good-naturedly. “Guess 
I would too, Bob Evans.” He turned eagerly to 
Willie-Frank. “I thought you’d break the line 
when you treed him; didn’t you ever go fishing 
before?” 

Our hero turned a somersault before answer- 
ing and then marched back to look at the pickerel 
with another merry grin. 

“No,” he said frankly. “Say, will you fish 
some more and let me watch you?” 


BOB AND RAY 


37 


“Here, you use my rod,” said Ray generously. 
“I don’t care much about fishing.” 

‘ ‘ 1 ’ll show you how to bait it, ’ ’ offered friendly 
Bob. 

While Ray was explaining the workings of the 
glittering reel in which Willie-Frank was greatly 
interested Bob looked up at the sky. 

“Hear the thunder!” he exclaimed. “It’s get- 
ting dark, too. I guess it’s going to rain before 
long. ’ ’ 

‘ 4 Cheers ! ’ ’ cried Willie-Frank. 4 ‘ Fish bite bet- 
ter in the rain, don’t they!” 

Both little friends laughed. Bob said: 

“Not much fun fishing in a thunder and light- 
ning storm.” 

“You bet it isn’t,” chuckled Ray. 

Willie-Frank sat patiently waiting for the first 
nibble of Sir Fish, but Bob seemed to have a sail- 
or’s instinct about the weather. He knew that a 
terrible storm was rumbling nearer every mo- 
ment, so he gathered up his rod and line and can 
of worms, while Ray took possession of the pick- 
erel. 

“Come on,” said Bob to Willie-Frank. “See 
how black the clouds are. If we don’t get off the 
pier soon we’ll get a terrible wetting.” 

Willie reluctantly handed over the handsome 
rod to its owner and found some comfort when 
Ray allowed him to carry the one big catch of the 
afternoon which Bob had strung on a piece of 
twine. 

Just at this moment a flash of lightning seemed 


38 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


to tear open a pathway straight through the sky. 
Ray gave a sort of war-whoop and yelling : 

“Come on, fellows,” rushed off. 

The rain came pelting down. The terrible 
wrath of the storm was suddenly let loose. Bob 
grasped rod and can with one hand and tugged at 
Willie-Frank ’s sleeve with the other: 

“Hurry,” he shouted. 

“Where?” Willie Thorne asked, standing still 
in the center of the pier holding fast to the pick- 
erel. 

“Boat-house,” panted Bob. 

When they reached Ray’s side on the porch of 
the boat house, however, what was Bob’s sur- 
prise to find Ray pushing and kicking at the door 
which had always opened so easily. 

“Locked,” grumbled Ray, dropping his rod and 
pulling his cap down over his eyes and turning 
up the collar of his jacket. 


CHAPTER V 
HIDE AND SEEK 

W ILLIE-FRANK stood on the step of the 
boat-house swinging the pickerel as hap- 
pily as though little rivers of water were 
not dripping from every wet curl on his head. 

“ Stand in here under cover/ ’ said Bob, making 
room for him. “You’re getting a terrible duck- 
ing there . 9 9 

“ I ’ll race you up home to the barn, ’ ’ suggested 
Willie-Frank. “We can play there. I’ve got a 
swing. Come on.” He started forward with one 
foot and looked back merrily at his companions 
to see if they were ready to follow. 

Bob and Ray leaped at the chance. The old 
barn of Thorne House! The wonderful swing 
Jack had described to Bob at dinner time ! 
“Hurrah!” both boys shouted. 

Ray bounded over the railing, up the tangled 
slope and over the stone wall which enclosed the 
meadow. Bob leaped down the steps while Willie- 
Frank went scampering after Ray. All three boys 
had forgotten that the paths of Thorne House 
were forbidden playground for Bob and Ray. 
Slipping and sliding and jumping up the muddy 
narrow lane, went Ray. Bob kept to the grass 
and once tumbled over a bramble. A big crack 
39 


40 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


of thunder and a blinding flash of lightning made 
them all stop for a moment. They heard a terrific 
crash and a splash. Looking back they saw that 
one of the big trees on the island had fallen and 
its topmost branches were now in the lake. 

“Let’s hurry,’ ’ said Ray. “It isn’t much 
farther now.” 

Bob, however, stood in the middle of the rain- 
soaked meadow staring at the island. “I wonder 
if that man is over there now,” he said. 

“What man?” asked Willie-Frank with inter- 
est. 

“Ray and I saw some one moving along the 
shore when we were fishing. That’s a long time 
ago though. Anyway he could keep dry in Her- 
mit’s Cave.” 

“A cave?” said Willie; “what’s it like?” 

“ I ’ll show it to you, ’ ’ volunteered Bob. 4 ‘ J ack 
will take us over in his boat. It’s a dandy place.” 

‘ ‘ When will we go ? ” 

“To-morrow if you want to.” 

“Guess I would! Thank you.” 

“I won,” yelled Ray’s voice in the distance. 

Spurred on by this cry, Bob and Willie-Frank 
soon stood under the protecting roof of the old 
barn. Ray was already in the swing. 

“Watch me,” he cried. “I’m going to touch 
that old lantern up there with my toes. ’ ’ 

“You can’t do it,” declared Bob. 

The lantern hung on a wooden peg just above 
the barn door. Ray called for a push and Bob 


HIDE AND SEEK 


41 


and Willie-Frank cheerfully gave him three apiece, 
and then went off to explore the grain pit. 

Ray touched the target he had set for himself 
many times without any applause. • Growing 
weary of such a lonely pastime Ray slackened his 
speed, and jumping to the floor ran over to join 
his playmates. 

“Hi,” he called. “What are you doing down 
there!” 

No answer. Not the least tiny sound. The boys 
were nowhere to be seen. 

Ray ran around to the stone steps leading into 
the pit and set about a thorough search. “Bob,” 
he called, “where are you!” He waited for a 
moment, only the thunder replied. Ray tried 
again : 

“Bill, ” he called this time. In a moment of this 
sort he found Willie-Frank far too long a name for 
convenience. He climbed up on a sack of grain, 
he peeped in behind barrels of corn. Where had 
the fellows gone! 

“Hello!” called a familiar voice. Jack Evans 
was leaning over the railing of the pit. ‘ 4 How do 
you happen to be in Thorne House barn, Ray!” 
he asked in surprise. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll 
be ordered away!” 

“No, I’m not,” declared Ray stoutly. “Willie 
Thorne asked us to come up here with him. We 
were on the pier fishing. Then it rained. Bob’s 
here, too.” 

“My Bob!” asked Jack. 

“Yes. He and Willie Thorne are hiding on me 


42 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


somewhere. They were down here just a little 
while ago and now I can’t find them. Hi — fellows, 
where are you?” he shouted once more. No an- 
swer. 

Jack laughed. “Say,” he said, “is the Thorne 
boy really in here ? ’ 9 

“Yes,” answered Ray. 

“All right then,” went on Jack. “I’ll run 
back and tell Mr. Baxter, the butler, that he’s 
safe. They are all upset at Thorne House. Ro- 
salie, his nurse, thinks he is lost. They’ve 
searched every room in the house for him. When 
the storm came up Rosalie nearly went crazy. 
She’ll be glad to know he’s here. By the way,” 
he added, “pull out those old baskets in the corner, 
Ray, and I guess you’ll see something interest- 
ing. ’ ’ And off went J ack through the rain. 

Ray obeyed instructions. It was easy to find the 
baskets but harder to pull them out than he ex- 
pected. 

“Ha! Ha!” he heard and then Bob’s familiar 
chuckle. 

The baskets hid a small opening which led into 
a tunnel reaching under the floor of the barn. 
Crouched at the entrance were the missing boys. 
They started to run as Ray stooped down to enter 
the hiding place. 

“I found you!” he shouted after them, glee- 
fully. 

“Jack told you where to look, though,” said 
Bob, pausing in his flight. 

Willie-Frank raced ahead. Following him the 


HIDE AND SEEK 


43 


boys soon entered another pit exactly like the 
grain bin in size, but as to contents, far more 
interesting ! 

The first object that met Willie Thome’s eyes 
caused him a merry peal of laughter. 

“What’s the joke?” demanded Bob eagerly. 

“Look!” cried the amused lad. 

Then Bob and Ray burst out laughing also. 
Facing them, propped up against the wall, was an 
ancient scarecrow. He was dressed in a rusty 
suit of black with great flopping sleeves ; through 
his crownless hat dusty wisps of straw were stick- 
ing out. He wore a jaunty red necktie and giddy 
pink shirt, but his face was the funniest of all. 
His cheeks were painted brick red. He had two 
black dots for eyes. A couple of lines represented 
his nose, his mouth was a long slit cut to look 
like a very wide smile. A corncob pipe had been 
placed in one corner of his mouth and as it was 
upside down it added greatly to the jovial appear- 
ance of this laughable object. 

Interested as the boys were in this, however, 
they continued to explore further. What was their 
delight upon discovering in a dark cobwebby cor- 
ner an immense, old-fashioned sleigh. Its seat 
and cushion were gone, but it was piled up with 
hay and straw. Bob and Willie-Frank climbed 
into it and were calling ‘ ‘ Whoa ! ’ ’ and ‘ ‘ Get up ! ” 
to an imaginary steed when Ray protested. 

“I found you fellows. It’s my turn to hide 
now. Say, will you look for me if I whistle to let 
you know when I ’m ready f ’ ’ 


44 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


“Hide and Seek?” asked Willie Thorne. 
“That’s good fnn. You go hide too, Bob,” he 
added obligingly. “I’ll be the man this time. 
Hurry up, I’ll give you until I count fifty,” he 
began; “one, two ” 

“Where’s the goal?” asked Ray. 

“The swing,” suggested Bob. 

“Or the sleigh,” urged Willie-Frank. 

They all decided in favor of the sleigh and Bob 
and Ray ran off to hide. When Willie counted 
fifty he began to chant the old familiar : 

“Ready or not, you must be caught and-no- 
fair-hiding-around-my-gold. Ready ! ” He bound- 
ed out of the pit and found himself back of the 
stalls. He climbed into one of these and out 
through the opening on the floor of the barn. Up 
the pegs to the big hayloft he went just in time 
to see Bob squirm out of the hay and run down 
the stairs. With much recklessness and to the 
tune of tearing cloth and swashing buttons Willie 
slid, climbed and leaped down the post by which 
he had ascended. Springing up through the stall 
again he reached the sleigh before Bob, running 
through the space near the staircase, could out- 
strip him. 

“Caught,” laughed Willie, touching the goal 
and rushing off to locate Ray. This time he hunted 
high and low from the hay-loft to the grain bins. 
Then the underground corridor, in all the old car- 
riages stored in the barn, but no Ray. Coming 
back to consult Bob about it, what was his surprise 


HIDE AND SEEK 45 

to see a smiling Ray seated calmly on the back of 
the old sleigh kicking his heels. 

“ Where were you?” asked our hero. 

“ That’s a secret,” chuckled Ray. “I’ll hide 
there again.” 

‘ 4 Well, hurry up,” advised Bob. “Pm it. I’ll 
give you twenty, but I’m going to count fast.” 

Off his two companions scampered, each in a 
different direction. Willie-Frank was uncertain 
just where to go. He had two or three good places 
in mind. Near the swing he encountered an ob- 
stacle to his progress. He stopped and stood as 
though frozen to the spot, for in front of him, en- 
veloped in an immense green waterproof cape, 
stood Mrs. Pepper. From behind her best gold- 
bowed spectacles she was gazing at him severely. 
A gloomy black veil was tied over her head, her 
feet were encased in a stout pair of overshoes. 

“What do you mean, sir, by running away from 
your nurse and scaring us all half to death?” she 
demanded sternly. 

Willie-Frank was just about to answer her 
when he heard Bob’s warning cry, — “Are you 
ready? I’m coming — hippity — hippity — hoop!” 

The sound of his running feet could be heard 
distinctly, and forgetting all fear of Mrs. Pepper 
and her scolding, out of sheer love of the game, 
Willie-Frank tried to dart past her, whispering 
excitedly. 

“He’s coming. I must hide. I don’t want to 
be caught.” 

“Who’s coming and why should you hide?” 


46 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


Mrs. Pepper demanded, seizing him by the shoul- 
der and giving him a little shake. 

“Bob. We’re playing hide and seek. He’s 
the man. Please let go!” 

But the struggling small boy felt her hand 
tighten on his arm and then a strange scene took 
place. Just before Bob turned the corner near 
the stall Mrs. Pepper whisked Willie-Frank in- 
side her big green waterproof cape. It was long 
— it was roomy. Our hero was more safely hidden 
from view than he could have been in the darkest 
nook of the old barn. 

Bob peering into every corner advanced cau- 
tiously. When he was half way across the barn 
floor he saw Mrs. Pepper. A more thoroughly 
frightened small boy would be hard to find. Stor- 
ies of Mrs. Pepper had cast absolute terror over 
Bob Evans’ life ever since he had lived in Sted- 
ley. He looked uncomfortable and longed to dash 
outside. The storm was over and the sun was 
shining. Bob was no coward and stood his ground 
bravely. 

“Who are you, boy, and what are you doing 
in this barn?” the housekeeper of Thorne House 
asked in a crisp tone. 

Bob whipped off his cap and answered courte- 
ously. 

“I’m Bob Evans. We were playing hide and 
seek. We haven’t done any harm.” 

“Tut-tut,” said Mrs. Pepper. “Who is hiding 
and who is seeking, I’d like to know?” 

Her unusual interest in boyish affairs put Bob 


HIDE AND SEEK 


47 


on his guard. He must not tell the names of his 
comrades he decided, but he spoke for himself 
quite frankly. 

“Pm the man. I’m looking for the other fel- 
lows. 9 9 

“Well, look then and be quick about it,” Mrs. 
Pepper commanded impatiently. “You might as 
well finish your game, I suppose. You can’t make 
much more trouble for me than you have already. 
But I’ll not stand waiting all afternoon, I assure 
you. I ’m here to send you home and I want to do 
it as fast as I can.” 

Bob was glad to hurry past this peculiar old 
lady. He ran toward the tool closet where he 
had a suspicion Ray’s hiding place might be. Be- 
fore he was many feet away an eager small voice 
piped out from under the folds of her mackintosh : 
“Has he gone, Mrs. Pep? Is the coast clear?” 

“Yes — run now — be quick.” 

Willie-Frank darted off like a deer and soon his 
joyous shout: 

“Home safe!” set the echoes of the old barn 
ringing. 

Bob had found Ray and given him warning and 
two very quiet small boys slid past Mrs. Pepper 
on their return trip to the goal. 

“Mercy!” she ejaculated. “What stupid chil- 
dren ! ’Twas not so when I played hide and seek 
in my youth. Run, one of you boys and have life 
to you. Isn’t any one going to tag the goal but 
Master William?” 

Ray glanced up at her in bewilderment. He too, 


48 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


knew Mrs. Pepper only as a sort of 44 bogey-man’ ’ 
personage. Back of her glasses he caught sight 
of twinkling eyes and quick to sense friendliness 
he took to his heels and discomfited Boh by touch- 
ing the goal in triumph. 

Mrs. Pepper walked majestically after Bob. She 
stood looking down into the pit where the old 
sleigh was stored and she was fumbling in her 
pocket. 

4 4 There,’ ’ she exclaimed at last, handing Bob a 
piece of pink peppermint candy. 4 4 You are a 
very slow-motioned child. Perhaps you are not 
well. Run home now and don’t come near the 
place again. Tell your mother that I think you 
need some catnip tea. You don’t act well. 
Here’s a piece for you, too, young man,” she 
added, addressing Ray. 4 4 Run along now and 
don’t throw stones at the birds. Come here, Mas- 
ter William. ’ ’ 

Willie-Frank scrambled up to her side. 4 4 Please 
may the boys come back and play with me to- 
morrow!” he pleaded with a sunny smile on his 
upturned face. 

Mrs. Pepper stiffened. 4 4 Master William,” she 
said severely, 4 4 never, never tease me for any- 
thing. Your Uncle wouldn’t like it. You are to 
march straight into the house, sir, and be quiet 
until tea time. You are a naughty little boy.” 

Willie-Frank gasped in dismay. Could this be 
the same kindly person who had hidden him under 
her raincoat! 


HIDE AND SEEK 


49 


“You called me Mrs. Pep a few moments ago. 
How dare you shorten my name, sir!” 

“Daddy used to call you Mrs. Pep when he 
talked about you,” Willie said sadly. He was 
very much disappointed. 

“Did your father speak to you of me, sir?” the 
old lady asked, her tone a shade less disagreeable 
than before. 

“Yes, but I didn’t know that you were the 
Mrs. Pep he meant until you hid me out there. 
He said his nurse used to hide him when he was 
a little boy and played hide and seek with Uncle 
Gerald. Weren’t you the one he meant?” 

“I was,” Mrs. Pepper answered gently, “and 
a nicer little lad never lived than Master Donald, 
unless it was Master Gerald himself. I’m glad 
your father remembered me, Master William. I 
was very fond of him and perhaps I will be of 
you, too, if you behave better in future. Come 
now. ’ ’ 

She marched off and Willie obediently followed 
her. He could see no trace of Ray or Bob. They 
had made their escape speedily. Half way up 
the gravel walk, however, he heard footsteps pur- 
suing him. He turned. Bob stood breathless be- 
fore him holding out the pickerel. 

“It’s — for you,” he panted, a rosy smile light- 
ing up his hot little face as he slipped the string 
into Willie’s hand. Then he flew just as Mrs. 
Pepper looked around to see what the latest dis- 
turbance could be. 

“What is that?” she asked in her crossest voice. 


50 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


“Our pickerel,” Willie exclaimed joyfully, giv- 
ing it a twirl in the air. “Bob gave it to me. 
Isn’t he splendid?” 

“There — there, don’t throw the horrid creature 
up into my face,” cried Mrs. Pepper, “and you 
can ’t bring it into the house. Eugene, ’ ’ she called, 
to a person who came hurriedly around the corner 
of the house: 

‘ ‘ Take this fish to the kitchen and if it is really 

fresh and fit to eat, tell Dorcas to ,” but she 

stopped quite suddenly and gave an exclamation 
of surprise, for it was not Eugene who was ad- 
vancing towards them. 


CHAPTER VI 


A RIDE 

G OOD-AFTERNOON, Mrs. Pepper,’ ’ a cool, 
precise voice said. ‘ 6 Is this the little boy ? ’ ’ 
Mrs. Pepper stiffened and her tone fairly 
bristled with reproof, as she replied: 

“How do you do, Mr. Stanley? This is Master 
William Thorne.” Her words sounded as though 
she wanted Mr. Stanley to understand that Willie 
was some important personage, not merely “the 
little boy.” 

Mr. Stanley gave a short laugh, but it was such 
a laugh, a queer laugh, sounding more like a 
sneeze or a cough, that Willie-Frank wrested his 
eyes from his beloved fish and gazed at the strang- 
er in boyish wonderment. 

Mr. Stanley was a very tall, thin young man 
with a very pale face, and a very high brow. He 
wore a very large pair of spectacles with tortoise 
shell rims. He patted our hero on the head kind- 
ly and smiled in a way that made him look more 
solemn than before. 

What a queer person he seemed! 
“How-do-you-do, Master William Thorne?” he 
said gravely. 

“I’m quite well, thank you,” answered Willie- 
Frank politely. 


51 


52 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


Mr. Stanley gave another odd langh. 

“Mr. Thorne has sent me for Master William,” 
he said, addressing Mrs. Pepper once more. 1 ‘ He 
is to come up to the city at once to see his Uncle. 
I have the automobile at the side entrance. Will 
you get him ready as soon as possible?” He 
glanced disapprovingly at Willie’s soiled, torn 
suit and ragged knees. 

Willie-Frank smiled at him in friendly fashion. 
Another automobile ride! The city! And Uncle 
Gerald! What a delightful set of surprises! 

“Is Mr. Gerald so ill, then?” exclaimed Mrs. 
Pepper anxiously. 

“No, not exactly,” Mr. Stanley replied calmly, 
“but he is having great trouble with his knee. He 
injured it while on one of his inland expeditions. 
Proper medical treatment could not be secured at 
the time and he has suffered more or less with it 
ever since. Stepping from the train in Boston a 
few nights ago he wrenched it again quite severe- 
ly. He had hoped to be able to walk within a day 
or two, but the doctor has forbidden him to at- 
tempt such a thing for several weeks. He is eager 
to see Master William and since he cannot come 
home as soon as he planned, he wants the child 
with him in Boston.” 

“Poor boy — poor boy,” murmured Mrs. Pep- 
per with motherly sympathy. 

Willie-Frank decided that he loved her. She 
had hidden him in the bam and she was sorry for 
Uncle Gerald! Oh, he was quite sure now that 
she wasn’t like the witches in the fairy tales ! He 


A RIDE 


53 


longed to ask Mr. Stanley questions about the 
wonderful trip they were going to take ! He had 
seen many large cities, but Boston was not among 
them. What fun was ahead for him! He wanted 
to jump up and down and shout. 

‘ ‘ Come, Master William,’ ’ said Mrs. Pepper, 
after a little more conversation with Mr. Stanley, 
who finally disappeared in the direction of the 
garage. 

For half an hour Mrs. Pepper and Rosalie were 
busy preparing the boy for his journey and when 
he marched down the stairs to the dining-room, 
where a supper was served for the travelers, by 
Eugene, he saw Mr. Stanley pacing up and down 
on the wide front veranda. Mr. Stanley saw a 
small boy with shining face and neatly brushed 
curls, in a blue Russian suit, a wide white collar 
and flaming red tie. Rosalie followed him bearing 
his gray coat and cap. Baxter brought up the 
rear with a suit case. 

Mr. Stanley tossed away his cigar and entered 
the hall, smiling very kindly at the lad. 

“I suppose you are pleased with the idea of a 
long ride by motor,” he said when they were 
seated at the table. 

“Yes, sir,” our hero answered shyly, but with 
a radiant smile. 

“Your Uncle is very kind,” continued Mr. Stan- 
ley. “His one thought is to make your life as 
happy as possible.” 

“I like him,” began Willie-Frank, “I love 
him, ’ 9 he added, gaining in eloquence as the friend- 


54 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


liness of Mr. Stanley’s face and manner put him 
at his ease. 

“That’s right,” the gentleman said approving- 
ly. “Love is really the best way of all to thank 
a person for kindness.” 

“Is Uncle Gerald tall?” questioned Willie ea- 
gerly. 

“Yes.” 

“Does he laugh a great deal?” 

Mr. Stanley smiled rather ruefully. “Yes, 
again. In fact he laughs most of the time at him- 
self, at me, and at the world in general.” 

“That’s nice,” said Willie-Frank, joyously. 
“Daddy laughed a lot, too. No one else I ever 
knew did. I like laughy people, don’t you?” 

“Well, I certainly like Mr. Thorne,” the gentle- 
man answered. ‘ 4 Now, if you are ready I think we 
will prepare for the road.” 

“Good-by, Eugene,” cried the boy, dashing 
back into the dining-room ten minutes later, trip- 
ping, as he ran, over his long gray dust coat. 

“Good-by, little sir,” answered Eugene heart- 
ily. “We will be glad to see you come home again, 
but meanwhile have a good time.” 

“Yes, thank you, I will.” 

“Here is a little package Mammy Dorcas the 
cook sent you. Open it when you come to a hungry 
place on the road. ’ ’ 

Willie laughed at Eugene’s funny way of ex- 
pressing it and begged him to thank kind Mammy 
Dorcas. 

“Coming?” called Mr. Stanley from the hall. 


A RIDE 


55 


“ Good-by, Rosalie,’ ’ shouted Willie-Frank, 
throwing his arms around his kind nurse with a 
“big bear” hug. 

“Good-by, dear,” she whispered, “here’s some- 
thing to play with at bedtime to-night,” and she 
thrust a knobby bundle into Willie’s hands. It 
was a funny red jumping- jack. 

4 ‘ Good-by, Master William. I hope you will be- 
have in a gentlemanly way and not annoy your 
good Uncle by noise and naughtiness,” said Mrs. 
Pepper severely. 

“Good-by,” answered Willie gayly. “Thank 
you for hiding me under your cloak in the barn.” 

His shrill young voice carried the words dis- 
tinctly to the ears of Rosalie, Eugene and Baxter. 
Even Mr. Stanley, who was descending the steps, 
could hear. Mrs. Pepper flounced away after try- 
ing to silence him with a severe “hush.” Willie 
looked after her very much perplexed. 

What a strange old lady she was! Didn’t she 
want any one to know that she played with him 
in the barn? When he looked around and saw 
a smile on every face, however, he brightened 
up again, shook hands with Baxter and hopped, 
skipped and jumped after Mr. Stanley. Eugene 
had told him that Mr. Stanley was his Uncle’s 
secretary. 

“Would you like to sit beside me?” asked that 
gentleman pleasantly. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Then hop in.” 

Baxter, after saying a kind farewell, shut the 


56 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


door with a snap and Willie-Frank was whirled 
away, hut at a turn of the drive he turned to wave 
his cap to the butler. 

“This isn’t quite so big a car as Mr. Jake’s, 
is it?” remarked Willie in a friendly tone to Mr. 
Stanley. 

“Do you mean the machine in which you rode 
yesterday?” asked his companion. 

“Yes, it is brown and shiny. It has a mono- 
gram on the doors. ’ ’ 

“Do you know what the letters were?” 

“Oh, yes — W. F. T., just like the letters of the 
monogram of my name, but Jake didn’t know 
what they stood for. He said they ought to be 
G. F. T. for Uncle Gerald’s.” 

“Ah, so you are not aware that the wonderful, 
shiny brown car is yours ? ’ ’ 

“Mine?” shrieked Willie-Frank, standing up 
in his excitement. “How could it be mine? Do 
little boys have autos all their own?” 

“No, not many, I’ll admit, but you happen to be 
unusually fortunate. Mr. Thorne calls that ma- 
chine yours and that is why your monogram 
adorns it. ” 

Willie suffered for a moment from complete 
“loss of tongue.” He sat back on the seat and 
looked ahead of him with eyes that were very big 
and bright. 

Oh, how good Uncle Gerald was and how very, 
very happy was Willie-Frank! 

“May I take all the boys out riding?” he asked 


A RIDE 


57 


at last, clutching Mr. Stanley’s arm with both 
hands. 

‘ ‘I suppose so. Give me warning when you 
intend to spring at me again, young man. We 
nearly sent the car into the ditch just then.” 

The stillness of the spring-time evening was 
broken by Willie’s peal of merry laughter. Mr. 
Stanley gave a short laugh, too. They were skim- 
ming along the village street now. At last, Mr. 
Stanley brought the car to a full stop in front 
of a home-like looking, old-fashioned house. 

“Dr. Cleary lives there,” said Mr. Stanley, 
quietly. “He has a package to send to your Uncle 
so we must stop and get it.” 

Before Mr. Stanley could sound his motor-horn, 
a short, brown-haired man came hurrying down 
the steps. 

To Willie this little brown gentleman appeared 
very interesting. He had brown eyes, a brown 
beard, a brown face and a brown suit. He smiled 
in a way that was perfectly delightful, winning 
for himself a straight road to the child’s heart. 

“I see that you do not intend to keep Gerald 
waiting long, Stan,” he said pleasantly. “Why, 
I have barely had time to collect my scattered 
senses and here you are back again. So this is 
Don’s boy. How-do-you-do, Willie Thorne? I 
am very happy to know you, my boy.” 

A kind hand was extended to grasp Willie’s 
small one. 

“This is Dr. Cleary, William,” said Mr. Stan- 


58 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


ley. “He was your Uncle’s chum in boyhood days 
and knew your Father also. ’ ’ 

“Are you Jimmie’s Father?” Willie asked 
eagerly. 

Both men laughed, but before either of them 
could answer, a lady came slowly out of the house 
leading a small boy by the hand. He looked un- 
comfortable in a suit which was very new, in a 
collar which was very stiff, in a pair of shoes 
which were very creaky. His brown hair was 
smoothly brushed under a trim blue cap, his face 
was very clean, his manners very quiet, until a 
shrill young voice cried out : 

1 1 Hi, Jimmie ! See, there is Jim, Mr. Stanley ! ’ ’ 

Then Jimmie’s face lighted up with pleasure. 
‘ ‘ ’Lo there ! ” he answered. Then turning to his 
mother, “that’s Willie-Frank, Mamma. See!” 

Our hero was standing up in the machine by this 
time, his face all aglow with delight. Mrs. Cleary 
came swiftly across the sidewalk : 

“Good evening, Mr. Stanley,” she said. “Good 
evening, little Willie. Jimmie has told me a great 
deal about you. You must be a very nice little 
boy.” 

Willie-Frank raised his cap and smiled and 
bowed in exact imitation of Daddy’s courtly man- 
ners. 

Mrs. Cleary was gentle, sweet and motherly. 
“You will be very careful of my boy, please, Mr. 
Stanley,” she said wistfully. Her arm was 
around Jimmie’s neck, her fond hand patted his 
cheek and Jimmie, although he smiled in friendli- 


A BIDE 59 

ness at the boy in the automobile, was not ashamed 
to cuddle up close to this best of all friends. 

“You may trust him to me absolutely, Mrs. 
Cleary,’ ’ Mr. Stanley said respectfully. “Mr. 
Thorne deeply appreciates your kindness in part- 
ing with your son for his sake. We will be very 
careful of the little lad.” 

“Good-by, darling,” whispered Mrs. Cleary, 
kissing Jimmie fondly. 

“Good-by, son,” said Dr. Cleary cheerily, as he 
swung Jimmie into the air, kissed him and seated 
him safely in the tonneau of the automobile. 

“Mr. Stanley, is Jimmie coming, too?” 
screamed Willie-Frank, clutching Mr. Stanley’s 
arm again with a sturdy grip. 

Mr. Stanley answered kindly: “Yes. Mr. 
Thorne sent me to ask Mrs. Cleary and the Doctor 
if they would permit him to enjoy the company of 
the boy for a week or two. I called here on my 
way to Thorne House.” 

“Hurrah! Hurrah!” cried the child, waving 
his cap. “Please, may he sit in here with us?” 

“Would you like to, James?” asked Mr. Stanley. 

“Yes, sir,” answered Jimmie. 

Dr. Cleary lifted him over the back of the seat, 
and clasping each other tightly by the hand the 
two boys sat and smiled first at each other and 
then at Mrs. Cleary. 

“Good-by,” called lively Ellie from the door- 
way as the machine moved slowly away. 

“Good-by,” said Mr. Stanley. 

“Good-by,” said Willie-Frank. 


60 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


Not a word from Jimmie! He was swallowing 
a big lump in his throat. He liked to ride in auto- 
mobiles. Oh, yes! He liked Willie-Frank, oh, 
yes ! But he was going away from home for the 
first time without one member of his own dear 
family. He gulped bravely. There was some one 
dearer to him than all the fun in the world. To 
her through the twilight shadows floated back his 
farewell. “ Good-by, Mother. Please don’t cry. 
Good-by!” 

Mr. Stanley feared that Jimmie’s homesickness 
might dampen the spirits of both young travelers, 
so he tried to think of some remark that might in- 
terest them. What was his satisfaction to dis- 
cover that Jimmie Cleary was a real little man 
about such matters. Having disposed of the sec- 
ond uncomfortable lump in his throat, the boy 
was laughing and chatting pleasantly with Willie- 
Frank. 

“You must know all the short cuts in this part 
of the country, James,” said the gentleman. “Is 
there any quicker way of reaching the state road 
than the one we are taking?” 

Yesterday Jimmie had acted as guide for Mr. 
Jake. To-night he was called upon to fill the same 
office for another “man at the wheel.” Willie 
listened breathlessly. 

“Yes, sir. Lots of the motorcycle men and fel- 
lows with racing cars go through Piney Road. 
It’s cooler and not so hilly.” 

“Good!” cried Mr. Stanley. “Now just where 
is it?” 


A RIDE 


61 


“See where the big elm comes out into the 
street? Well, it’s first turn after that. Yes, right 
around here, sir. Look out, the corner’s sharp.” 
Jimmie stood up and gave the directions with 
keen enjoyment. 

“Thanks. Do I keep straight ahead all the 
way?” 

“Until you come to the lake, then switch oft 
to the right into the Lake Drive. That will bring 
you right out on the boulevard.” 

Mr. Stanley carefully steered the machine into 
the shadows of Piney Road, and Jimmie turned 
to ask Willie eagerly, “Where are your dogs? 
Did you leave them up at Thorne House?” 

“Yes. Mr. Stanley told me they weren’t in- 
vited. I’m afraid Curly will starve unless I go 
back soon.” 

“Why?” questioned Jimmie, round-eyed with 
curiosity. 

“He doesn’t eat if I’m not around. He lies 
down just as if he felt sick and whines or else 
growls at every one who comes near him.” 

“Don’t fret about him,” advised Mr. Stanley. 
“He must get over such nonsense as soon as 
possible. Why, a dog of that sort is a perfect 
nuisance.” 

“Curly isn’t a nuisance, really,” declared Wil- 
lie loyally. 

“He’s a beauty,” commended Jimmie, “and the 
other little fellow is smart as can be. I wish I 
had a dog.” 


62 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


•“What kind do you like best?” asked Willie- 
Frank. 

“A bull dog! Just like Dick Smith’s! His 
name is Punch.” 

“How big is he?” 

Jimmie illustrated the measurements of Punch 
with his hands: “He’s about so long — and so 
high and wide as that — see! And he has teeth 
that show all the time, even when he’s not cross.” 

Willie was greatly interested in the monster, 
and Jimmie was starting another speech of praise, 
when a lurch of the machine as it was guided into 
Lake Drive bounced the two lads against the side 
of the car. Then the auto came to a sudden stop. 

“Too bad I had to jolt you so,” the gentleman 
said kindly. 

Both boys laughed merrily and assured him : 

“It was good fun.” 

“Look,” he said. “Do you see anything odd 
off there in the center of the lake? Watch closely 
for a moment.” 

Wide-eyed, eager for adventure, Willie and 
Jimmie stared across the water. Twilight was 
falling softly now. Only the outline of the island 
could be seen through the shadows. A fog was 
also slowly settling over the lake, rendering the 
outlook dimmer each moment. The three motor- 
ists waited patiently. At last Mr. Stanley ex- 
claimed, 4 4 There ! Do you see it ? To me, it looks 
like a signal, as though some one might be in dis- 
tress over on that island. Are there any boats 
to be had near by, my boy?” 


A RIDE 63 

“Eben Hollister lives down this way. He has 
a dory and a raft.’’ 

“Very well, let ns go to Eben’s with all possi- 
ble speed,” said the gentleman swiftly starting 
the machine into motion. 

“ There goes another beacon, see!” cried out 
Willie-Frank, hopping up and down .in his ex- 
citement. 

Mr. Stanley reached across the back of the seat 
and clutched our hero, saying pleasantly: 

“Sit down, William. If we want to help our 
Robinson Crusoe off his island it will not hasten 
matters any to be obliged to stop and pick you 
up by the wayside.” 

But events of thrilling interest were taking 
place. Willie could not keep still. At regular 
intervals what appeared to be a blazing torch 
flared in the sky, falling almost immediately into 
the lake with a fizzling sound. 

“Perhaps some of the boys from the military 
school are camping out over there,” suggested 
Jimmie. 

“Bob saw a man on the shore this afternoon 
just before the thunder storm came up,” added 
Willie-Frank. 

“Oh, so there was some one there during the 
storm!” said Mr, Stanley very gravely. “A tree 
was struck this afternoon. I saw it fall as I ran 
the car for shelter under the sheds near the Fair 
grounds. I sincerely hope no one was injured 
as it crashed down.” 

“Bob said that the man could keep dry in Her- 


64 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


mit’s Cave,” explained Willie. ‘ 4 Maybe he was 
in there when the tree fell.” 

“I wonder why he doesn’t swim across?” mur- 
mured Jimmie. 

“ Whoop there! Don’t run me down,” called 
a new voice sharply from the dusk of the road- 
side. 


CHAPTER VII 


TO THE RESCUE 

W HO are you?” demanded Mr. Stanley. 

“IPs Ted Bemis,” shouted Jimmie, 
delightedly. “Hi, Ted! Where are you?” 
“That you, Jim Cleary?” 

“Yes.” 

“Wheel Stop that! Want to blind a fellow,” 
sputtered Ted, as Mr. Stanley sent the far-reach- 
ing glare of his immense searchlight full upon the 
lonely stretch of road and the ragged boyish fig- 
ure. All could see the lad clearly now. His tat- 
tered cap was pulled down over his brow — he car- 
ried a huge market basket on his arm. 

Ted, for his part, blinked like a cross little owl 
at the touring-car and its occupants. 

Mr. Stanley addressed him kindly. “Did you 
see the signals from the island, my boy?” 

“Yes,” answered Ted gruffly, shifting his load 
from one hand to the other. “If it wasn’t for 
the plaguey old basket I could get along faster. 
When I get down to old Eb’s, I’m going to get a 
boat and row over to see what’s the fuss.” 

“See! There’s another!” yelled Jimmie and 
Willie in chorus, as a specially bright, fiery brand 
swept skyward. Much spluttering followed its 
descent into the water. 


65 


66 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


“Are we near the place yon are making for, 
Ted?” asked Mr. Stanley in a winning tone of 
comradeship. 

“Eb’s, you mean? Yes, sir. It’s just a little 
stretch ahead.” 

“Swing your basket into the car then and hop 
in yourself. We are on our way to this Mr. 
Eben’s also to get a boat and play life-savers. 
Will you let us cross with you, provided Mr. Eben 
is willing?” 

“You mean go over to the island with me? 
Sure, Mister ;jbut say, I never rode in an automo- 
bile before. Do you want me to, honest?” 

‘ ‘ I generally say exactly what I mean, my young 
friend. There! In with the basket! That’s right! 
Now yourself! Perhaps you can’t manage that 
catch on the door. Let me assist you!” 

Mr. Stanley courteously reached over to unfas- 
ten the snap but Ted exclaimed joyfully: 

“Let me, Mister, please! I’ve got the trick. 
See!” 

“Excellent,” said the gentleman brightly. 
“Now, forward once more.” 

‘ ‘ My, but this is swell ! ’ ’ declared Ted fervently 
as the car whirred on its way and he bounced hap- 
pily in solitary state on the rear seat. Unfor- 
tunately, his high glee caused him to swing his 
feet back and forth restlessly, and the stillness 
of the night air was disturbed quite unexpectedly 
by a queer, snarling sound. 

“What’s that!” cried Ted, leaping up. 


TO THE RESCUE 67 

“ There’s something *under the seat sure as can 
be.” 

‘ 1 Perhaps it’s a wild-cat,” exclaimed Jimmie, 
eagerly. 

Down on his knees went dauntless Ted to peer 
underneath the leather curtain. Not the wisest 
way in the world to locate a wild-cat, as perhaps 
‘ ‘ Uncle Gerald” could have told him had he been 
of the party! 

“What next?” laughed Mr. Stanley, bringing 
the car to a stop for the third time since entering 
Lake Drive. 

There was a scramble, a thud, a gasp from Ted 
— a snarl, and then, a whimpering little whine of 
relief and joy. 

“ It ’s Curly. Hurrah ! ’ ’ shrieked Willie-Frank, 
holding a woolly little ball up triumphantly. The 
scramble and the thud had occurred when Willie, 
suspecting that it was his pet, dived impulsively 
over the back of the seat, falling upon prostrate 
Ted with all his sturdy strength. The gasp was 
given when Ted, almost breathless, wondered if 
another wild-cat was on top of him. The snarl 
and the whimper had been Curly’s addition to the 
performance. 

Jimmie chimed in by laughing heartily and Ted 
was soon doing the same. 

“May he stay, Mr. Stanley, please!” begged 
Willie-Frank, pushing his pet against that gentle- 
man’s shoulder beseechingly. 

“Wasn’t he cute to hide under the seat so he 
wouldn’t be left behind! I always knew Curly 


68 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


was smart. He can sleep with me,” he continued 
eagerly. “He wouldn’t make a bit of noise or 
trouble, would you, Curly? Speak up, sir!” 

“Yap — yap!” responded Curly decidedly and 
coaxingly caressed the back of Mr. Stanley’s ear 
with his little pink tongue. 

Mr. Stanley immediately joined in the mirth of 
Jim and Ted. Truly this Curly was a funny, win- 
some little rogue ! 

“Yes— yes, by all means let him stay. Now 
that he is here it can’t be helped. Sit down beside 
Ted and don’t dare to breathe again, any of you, 
for I’ll not stop this time for an earthquake,” Mr. 
Stanley answered jokingly as he sent the car for- 
ward at a whizzing pace. 

Soon a tiny glimmer of light could be seen 
ahead among the trees. When the automobile 
reached the gateway of Eben ’s farm-house, a tall, 
lanky figure came slowly down the path. 

“Hello! Is that you, Ted?” some one called 
harshly. 

“Yes,” answered Ted, but much of the happi- 
ness had died out of his rough young voice. 

“What kept you so long? Who’s this you’re 
with? An ortymobile! Well — I never!” 

Ted was busy lifting up the heavy basket, but 
Mr. Stanley spoke agreeably : 

“Have I the pleasure of addressing Mr. Hol- 
lister?” 

“Who are you?” asked the man, gruffly. 

“A Westerner,” responded Mr. Stanley with 
a low laugh. “We haven’t the Yankee way of 


TO THE RESCUE 


69 


answering one question by asking another. How- 
ever, it doesn’t matter,” he added, “what I want 
is a place to put my machine for a few moments, 
and a boat. I think some one is in distress over 
there on the island. We wish to reach them as 
soon as possible.” 

“Well — it’s funny, sure enough. Eben’s just 
gone down to row across, because he thought the 
same as you, but I say ’tain’t no such thing. It’s 
some of them Academy boys skylarking. They 
ought to be put to work, the whole of them. 
They’re an idle, good-for-nothing set. See here, 
you, Ted — what do you mean by killing time in a 
swell chap’s ortymobile when I send you on an 
errand — hey?” 

The man’s tone sounded so threatening that 
Mr. Stanley interfered : 

“Nonsense, sir. The child had a heavy basket 
to carry. He came quicker by, riding than he ever 
could on foot. Ah ! this is a driveway, I see. Stay 
where you are, Ted.” 

Honk — honk! went the horn in warning. The 
gruff person stepped back and the car glided safe- 
ly under the shelter of maple trees into the barn- 
yard adjoining the house. 

“Now, boys, come quickly. Perhaps we can 
find Mr. Eben in time. By the way, I must have 
some one in charge of the car. Who lives here 
besides Mr. Eben?” 

“Hetty,” shouted Jimmie, clearly. “There she 
is now. Hello, Hetty!” 


70 WILLIE-FEANK OF STEDLEY 


A cheerful looking woman appeared in the 
doorway, carrying a lamp in her hands. 

“Why, Jimmie Cleary, what are you doing 
away down here?” she demanded. 

Jimmie smiled in a very friendly way. Many 
a fishing trip had Hetty made happy for him by 
arming him with doughnuts or pie or cookies as 
he passed her lonely cottage. But Mr. Stanley 
had a way of keeping the conversation limited to 
himself this evening, so great was his hurr # y. He 
spoke rapidly and soon had explained matters to 
the kindly housekeeper who proved to be Eben’s 
sister. 

“Yes, of course I’ll keep an eye out for your 
car, sir, but there is no danger. No one comes 
along here much after nightfall. If you cross the 
road and follow the path through the thicket 
you’ll probably find Eb, and if he has sailed why, 
help yourself to the raft. Are you going along, 
too, Mr. Frost?” she asked, addressing the tall, 
lanky man, but with none of the friendliness in 
her tone that she had used to Mr. Stanley. 

“No, I’m not. I’m going to push on to town. 
I only waited to see how long it took this lazy fel- 
low to do an errand. Drop that basket now, you 
Ted, and trot home and get to bed and see that you 
are up early to-morrow and at that weeding, or 
you’ll hear from me when I get back from town.” 

“Oh, please, Mr. Frost, can’t I go to the is- 
land with the rest?” pleaded Ted. All roughness 
had disappeared from his voice. It was very 
wistful now. 


TO THE RESCUE 


71 


“Run along, boys. Ill attend to this,” said 
Mr. Stanley, sharply. “Yes, you, too, Ted. If 
you don’t find Eben, wait for me.” 

Ted hesitated. Mr. Frost began to speak an- 
grily to Mr. Stanley, but Willie, tugging at Ted’s 
arm, said, “Come on!” Mr. Stanley made a few 
remarks in a low voice. 

“Go ahead,” Mr. Frost said unexpectedly. 
“Probably the gentleman is willing to pay you 
for your time, but run home as soon as you’re 
through — do you hear?” 

Even in the darkness honest Ted could feel 
the color mounting to the roots of his hair. Shame 
for the hateful word “pay” rendered him dumb 
and uncomfortable. 

“It will be quite all right, Ted. Run along; I 
understand,” said Mr. Stanley’s kind, big-broth- 
erly voice, and poor Ted flashed up a grateful 
smile at his splendid new champion. Mr. Stanley 
had placed his hand on Ted’s shoulder as he spoke 
and something in his touch made the lad feel that 
he really and truly did understand that though 
Ted was poor and homeless, he did not want 
money, but friendship. 

“Thanks,” mumbled Ted tersely, then bounded 
off after his chums. 

Meanwhile, Jimmie had reached the rude planks 
which Eben used’ as a boat landing. By shouting 
lustily he soon discovered that slow-motioned Mr. 
Hollister was not far from the shore. His easy- 
going voice called back jocularly : 

“Take the raft, young ’un, if you want to. I’m 


72 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


not a-coming back for nobody. There ’s nothing 
serious the matter over yonder. Pm only going 
over to see what mischief the chap is up to. If 
any one wants to come with me, they’ll have to 
swim out here and scramble in.” 

Eben was only joking, but one member of the 
party took him seriously. A quick splash fol- 
lowed his words. 

44 Who’s that!” demanded Eben. 4 4 Did some 
one fall!” 

4 4 Yes, Curly,” exclaimed Ted in wild excite- 
ment. 4 4 Come back. He ’ll drown. Come back ! ’ ’ 

4 4 A boy, is it ! ” demanded Eben, with more life 
in his utterances now. 

4 4 No, Curly’s a dog,” chimed in Jimmie, 4 4 but 
get him, will you! Where is Willie Thome! 
He’ll go wild if his dog is drowned.” 

4 4 It’s not a dog,” yelled Ted, throwing off his 
coat. 4 4 It’s the little chap himself.” Ted had 
adopted the name of the poodle as an appropriate 
one for Willie-Frank because of his hair, hence 
the mistake on Jimmie’s part. 

Another splash ! Ted had dived after our hero 
into the lake. 

44 Sho! There’s another one to fish out now! 
Boys sartainly are the limit,” growled Eb, start- 
ing back to the rescue. 

4 4 Here I am! You said I could ride if I swam 
out to you! Hurry up, Ted,” said a rather choky 
voice. 

Now that the fog had rolled silently away, 
under the clearer light of the stars, Mr. Hollister 


TO THE RESCUE 


73 


saw ten wet but determined little fingers gripping 
the side of his craft, A mop of dripping curls ap- 
peared also. 

i 6 Hullo ! ’ ’ he exclaimed. ‘ ‘ A little girl ! Where 
in the world did you drop from?” As he spoke he 
reached out a strong arm and swung the child into 
the boat. Instantly Willie-Frank shook himself 
like a small dog and Eben burst out laughing. 

4 6 That ’s right. Don ’t mind me ! Ho — ho — get 
me just as wet as you like! Here, Ted — what a 
silly chap you were to dive before there was any 
need.” And to the accompaniment of these words 
the good-natured farmer hoisted Ted aboard also. 

“Say, you did give me a scare!” chattered Ted, 
regarding Willie with mingled reproof and ad- 
miration. 

“Why?” demanded the smaller. “I can swim 
— like a fish,” he wound up with proudly. 

“Ho, ho! Guess you can. Get down there 
under those robes, both of you, quick! I don’t 
want any chills. Here’s my sweater. You put it 
on, curly head, and mind you, keep still. For a 
little tad, you’re altogether too spry.” 

Eben began to row with long strokes now, and 
Ted cuddled down under the assortment of robes 
which had evidently been brought along in ex- 
pectation of trouble on the island. 

The night air was chill and the water had been 
very cold. Willie shivered slightly but could not 
be induced to curl up beside Ted at the bottom of 
the boat until Eben threatened to take them both 
back to the shore at once. 


74 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


“But I want to sit and watch you,” Willie pro- 
tested. “I want to be ready to hop out when we 
get there. ’ ’ 

“Hop down and do as I told you,” repeated Mr. 
Hollister firmly. 

Ted reached out and caught his friend by the 
ankle and that settled matters. With a bounce 
that nearly upset both the boatman and the boat, 
Willie fell into the cozy nest Ted had fixed for 
him at his side. 

“All right out there?” called Mr. Stanley, anx- 
iously, from the pier. 

“Yes,” shouted back Eben. 

When Mr. Stanley had hurried through the 
bushes shortly after Willie’s leap into the lake, 
Jimmie told him what had happened. Needless 
to say, that gentleman became greatly excited, 
and it was not until Willie himself answered to 
his call that Mr. Stanley resumed his customary 
air of calmness. 

“We will follow on the raft,” he shouted. 

“Help yourself,” rejoined Mr. Hollister. 

“Guess that man on the island thinks we are 
never coming,” said Jimmie, seating himself 
Turkish fashion on the raft, his eyes glued on the 
shore towards which Mr. Stanley was now swift- 
ly poling. 

“Surely the others have reached there before 
this,” exclaimed his companion, pausing to peer 
in the direction taken by Eben’s boat. 

Across the shining lake came a duet from Wil- 
lie and Ted: 


TO THE RESCUE 


75 


‘ 1 All-right-over-there. Coming ? ’ 9 

“They’ve landed,” cried Jimmie jubilantly. 

“Yes! Coming!” shouted Mr. Stanley. 

Soon Jimmie bounded on to the sloping shore 
of the island, but turned to help Mr. Stanley pull 
the raft, up to a safe mooring. 

“Thanks,” said his tall companion, kindly, 
“but I can manage this nicely, my boy. You call 
out and try to locate the others.” 

Jimmie obeyed. “Hermit’s Cave! It’s around 
this side,” advised the boy, when the sound of 
Ted’s answering yell reached his ears. 

“Ah, here are the remnants of some of the 
torches,” said Mr. Stanley, quietly. 

“Where?” asked Jimmie, stumbling in his 
eagerness. “Whew! But that’s hot!” he then 
exclaimed, clapping his hands together. He was 
kneeling in a heap of dying embers, over which 
he had tripped. 

“The fire at which the torches were kindled!” 
ejaculated Mr. Stanley, examining the spot. 

“Oh, look — look!” cried Jimmie, springing to 
his feet. “See what’s back of the bushes! Look!” 

The cause of his excitement proved to be a 
great white object tipped on one side, which had 
the appearance in the silvery moonlight of an im- 
mense bird with a trailing, broken wing. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE ISLAND BY MOONLIGHT 

I T’S an airship,” crowed Jimmie, pushing 
forward through the intervening bushes. 

“ There’s a man hurt. He’s fainted,” 
panted Ted, bounding into view. “Eben, Curly 
and I helped him get into Hermit’s Cave.” 

“ Curly?” exclaimed Mr. Stanley impatiently. 
“Is that dog over here, too?” 

“Nope. It’s Will Thorne I mean.” 

The gentleman laughed, but Ted’s teeth were 
chattering. He was dragging one of the heavy 
gray robes from Eben’s boat after him. 

“Here, my boy,” said Mr. Stanley hurriedly, 
but kindly, as he whipped off his warm tweed 
jacket. “Drop that blanket and slip into this. 
Now the blanket again. That’s right. Now roll 
up in it and lie down beside this fire. You must 
keep as warm as possible until you can change 
those wet clothes of yours. Where is William?” 

“In the cave, ’ ’ answered Ted. ‘ ‘ But say, Mis- 
ter, I don’t want to lie here like a baby. I’m 
going, too. I want to help ! ’ ’ 

“You must obey orders, my lad, else you are 
no true soldier. I’ll be back presently. Come, 
James. The airship will keep. Sit down beside 
Ted and get up a good blaze. I appoint you Cap- 
76 


THE ISLAND BY MOONLIGHT 


77 


tain and we may all need your camp fire shortly, 
so tend it faithfully.” 

Promptly Jimmie came crashing back, eager 
to tell Ted of the wonderful “Plane” which he 
had just examined as closely as circumstances 
permitted. 

“It’s a Flier, sure enough,” ejaculated Ted, 
raising his head to peer with interest at the luck- 
less airship. “Say, that chap must have had a 
mighty bad toss, Jim. He looks awfully battered 
to me, but he ’s game ! As game as — as Tucker . 9 9 

Ted, in search of a hero whose measure of 
bravery Jimmie could properly appreciate, finally 
settled upon the famous football favorite of Sted- 
ley. 

Mr. Stanley walked rapidly away in the direc- 
tion from whence Ted had come. He soon dis- 
covered an entrance, partly concealed by bram- 
bles, leading into a low-vaulted hut. From a rude 
bracket on the damp wall swung Eben’s lantern. 
Eben himself was bending over a prostrate figure 
on the earthy floor. 

“What’s the trouble, Mr. Hollister?” demand- 
ed Mr. Stanley. Then, in the same breath, 
“Where is William?” 

“Here I am. Mr. Eben and I are giving first 
aid,” chirped Willie, happily, from the dark cor- 
ner where he was kneeling. 

The injured man moaned feebly and opened 
his eyes. They were dark, mischievous eyes. He 
turned them in search of the child. 

“First aid!” he murmured, with a smile flick- 


78 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


ering across his drawn face. “Some boy, you 
are ! Tell — me — your — name. ’ ’ 

“Willie Thorne. Are you much hurt, sir?” 

Mr. Stanley swiftly stooped over the sufferer 
and with quick, skillful fingers made a hurried ex- 
amination. The man winced several times and 
finally spoke: 

“It’s the shoulder, isn’t it? Bad break, do you 
think?” 

Mr. Stanley raised the left arm gently. Sud- 
denly he tried a quick experiment. The man bit 
his underlip in an effort to restrain a cry of 
pain. Then he raised his merry eyes with a pa- 
thetic twinkle in them to his rescuer’s face, at- 
tempted to say, “Quit that,” and fainted. 

“Pretty much broken up, eh?” commented 
Eben. 

“I can’t tell just how serious it is at present, 
but I’m afraid there are internal injuries, also,” 
muttered Mr. Stanley. “We must get him across 
as soon as possible. Now, what is the quickest 
way to do it and save him pain?” 

“I’ll carry him to the boat and keep him 
propped up against me as comfortable as may be, 
while you row,” drawled the farmer, but there 
was a ring of strong reliance in his slow voice. 

His companion, glancing at the great broad- 
shouldered giant, who had risen now to his feet, 
appreciated his strength and willingness, but said 
gravely : 

“He is thin and wiry but his muscles are like 
steel. He will be a heavy load for both of us in 


THE ISLAND BY MOONLIGHT 79 


the effort we must make to raise him again with- 
out too severe a jolt.” 

“I was thinking of making a stretcher of this,” 
said Eben, lifting a piece of sail-cloth, “but some- 
how I think I could carry him in my arms more 
gentle-like. I often toted wounded men off the 
battlefield.” 

“Oh, are you a soldier V 9 asked Willie-Frank 
impulsively. 

Both men had forgotten him until he spoke. 

“Too bad we’ve got those pesky boys along,” 
grumbled Eben. “Trouble enough and to spare 
without their mischief. As for you, young Quick- 
silver Johnnie, you keep as quiet as a mouse until 
we give you orders!” He glared at Willie very 
sternly, but as it was dark in the cave, only the 
rebuke in his voice reached the lad. 

Mr. Stanley, reminded of Willie’s presence and 
his duty in that regard, reached across the avia- 
tor’s form and lifted the child up in his arms. 

“Why, William, you are frozen,” he exclaimed, 
feeling of the boy’s dripping clothing beneath the 
old red sweater of Mr. Hollister, which Willie 
was wearing. 

“And barefooted!” he continued, for our hero 
had kicked off slippers and socks before diving. 

“I’m not so very cold,” remonstrated Willie- 
Frank. 

“Run outside as fast as you can,” said Mr. 
Stanley, crisply. “Wrap this around you,” hand- 
ing him another of the gray blankets which Eben 
had brought with him, “and lie down near the 


80 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


fire that James is stoking. Remain there until I 
call you.” 

When Willie had disappeared he turned again 
to the farmer : 

“ Would it be much of a pull to Thorne House!” 
he asked. 

Eben pushed back his cap and grunted : 
“Thorne House!” he said at last. “Yes, sir, con- 
siderable and besides it’s no go. It’s to my place 
or nothing for me. It’s nearer, and Hetty’s one 
fine nurse. I can get Doc Cleary on the telephone 
in no time and there’s room and to spare for all 
of us.” 

“Good!” said Mr. Stanley, not stopping to 
argue that “room and to spare” was assured at 
Thorne House, too, with far more conveniences 
than Eben’s home on Lake Drive could possibly 
have. The fact that Lake Drive was the nearest 
point to reach settled matters without further 
comment. 

“Ted can pole the other two chaps back on 
the raft,” went on Eben; “he’s as steady as a 
man, Ted is. Send ’em off. Then we’ll get busy 
here, Mister. Tell ’em to run up and tell Hetty 
that it was an accident. I reckon she has her best 
room ready anyhow. She was sure some one was 
hurt when she saw those lights.” 

Mr. Stanley summoned Ted in this way: 

“Ted, we must rely on your help at once,” as 
he hurried out to the camp fire. 

There was a smothered answer of some sort 
from the huge mountain of gray blanket on the 


THE ISLAND BY MOONLIGHT 81 


shore, a kicking free of bare, brown legs — then 
a sleek, black head appeared and soon Ted strug- 
gled to his feet. 

“Yes, sir. You can count on me sure. What 
can I do?” 

“I want you to pole yourself, James and Wil- 
liam across immediately. Bun to Mr. Hollister’s 
house as soon as you land and ask the lady there 
to telephone for the doctor and prepare a bed 
for an injured man. Then you and William must 
dry yourselves as much as possible near the 
kitchen stove until I get there, that is if the lady 
is willing. Now, William, will you promise me 
to obey Ted and not go leaping into the lake in 
such a foolhardy way again?” 

“Oh, yes,” assented Willie, who was sitting on 
top of his blanket by this time. “I’d like to help 
pole that raft, though.” 

“Don’t you dare to attempt such a thing,” 
commanded his guardian. “James, you will pay 
strict attention to Ted as superior officer, I am 
sure.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Now that is settled nicely,” said Mr. Stanley, 
drawing a long breath, but he was soon to dis- 
cover his mistake and Eben was forced to admit 
the following day that “those pesky boys” had 
not been a hindrance after all. For when Mr. 
Stanley and Mr. Hollister attempted to move the 
crippled aviator, they found that their combined 
strength and skill would be needed every moment 
to make the rowboat at all possible as a means of 


82 


WILLIE-FBANK OF STEDLEY 


transportation. Another pair of arms at the oars 
became absolutely necessary. Ted was hailed and 
the raft returned quickly to the island. 

“I don’t like to leave the two little fellows here 
alone,” objected Mr. Stanley. 

“It can’t be helped, sir,” stubbornly declared 
Eben. “Ted will row back for them as soon as he 
can.” 

‘ 4 Don ’t — leave — children — here. Take — them — 
first,” the injured man murmured feverishly. 

“Don’t you fret a mite, Mister. We’ll manage 
all right,” cheered Eben, bending over him. 

Willie-Frank, standing close by, bounded for- 
ward and patting the stranger’s cheek with his 
small hand, said soothingly in the quaint way he 
had at times: 

“We aren’t afraid, sir. We can play we are 
shipwrecked. It will be fun. ’ ’ 

If the truth had been entirely known Master 
William was ready to dance for joy at the thought 
of remaining on what he termed a “desert island” 
after dark, with only Jimmie for company. The 
spirit of adventure thrilled him with delight. 

His new friend opened his merry eyes once 
more and another smile flickered over his face. 
“Little — First — Aider!” was all he said. 

Mr. Stanley felt very uneasy about leaving his 
two small charges by themselves on the lonely 
shore, but as there was nothing else to be done he 
gave them some parting instructions and the boat 
soon glided on its way. 


THE ISLAND BY MOONLIGHT 83 


Willie and Jimmie, by common impulse, rushed 
off to examine the airship. 

“Let’s get the lantern. It’s in the cave,” ad- 
vised Jimmie, turning back. 

“Don’t go into the bushes, boys,” called back 
Mr. Stanley, sternly. 

“We can explore the cave, anyway,” suggested 
Willie brightly. “Why do they call it Hermit’s 
Cave, Jim?” 

“Folks say an old man used to live there all by 
himself. They named it Hermit’s Cave after he 
died. They’ve got some of his old books up at 
the Historical Society on Main Street.” 

“Wheel That’s better than any story in a 
book,” said Willie enthusiastically. 

“Look, this was the bench he used to sit on,” 
explained Jimmie, acting as guide. 

With the aid of the lantern which they had un- 
hooked from the wooden bracket on the wall, the 
boys had penetrated to the most extreme corner 
of the hut. A long, low stone slab placed upon 
four immense tree stumps formed the ancient 
seat. The trees had evidently been cut down by 
this sturdy old hermit and the cave afterwards 
built around them as a center. The floor was 
damp and chill to the feet, but Willie-Frank did 
not know it. He was too much excited to consider 
such trifles. 

“Jimmie, do you suppose there’s a treasure 
hidden in here?” he demanded, his eyes shining. 

“We often dig for one,” explained Jimmie, 
“when we come over on picnics, but we didn’t 


84 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


find it yet. See, there’s the last hole Bob Evans 
made. ’ ’ 

Willie examined the scene of Bob’s attempt but 
was forced to admit that the results looked un- 
profitable. “I’d like to try some day. Will you 
dig with me, Jimmie?” 

“Course, when we get back from the city, I’d 
like to. Wish we could go up near the airship, 
don’t you?” 

“Yes. It may be gone when we get back from 
Boston.” 

“I guess not. Eben said that man would be 
laid up for ever so long. Wouldn’t you like to 
see him fly it when he’s all better?” 

“Oh, yes,” agreed Jimmie. 

“Perhaps we will. He’s a nice man,” compli- 
mented Willie. “He likes to joke, I think. Wasn’t 
he brave?” 

“Do you see anything over in that corner?” 
asked Jimmie, seizing Willie by the arm. 

Willie looked in the direction to which Jimmie 
pointed, and sure enough, he did see a small, 
round, dark object and two sparkling eyes. Hand 
in hand, the boys cautiously approached it. Jim- 
mie had picked up a stone from the floor and Wil- 
lie swung the lantern excitedly. Then both burst 
out laughing. The something was the ‘ ‘ airman ’s ’ ’ 
leather cap and the moonbeams shining through a 
square hole in the roof of the cave had given the 
glass, which acts as a protection to an aviator’s 
eyes, the appearance which had so startled Jim- 
mie. 


THE ISLAND BY MOONLIGHT 85 


Willie dropped the lantern and picked up the 
helmet. Jimmie stubbed his toe against what 
he supposed was a branch of some kind. He 
glanced down. 

“Willie, see!” he cried jubilantly. “It’s the 
treasure.” 

A slim, black envelope wallet lay open on the 
damp ground. On one side was pasted the pic- 
ture of a laughing little girl, the opposite holder 
contained a package of bills. 

“It’s that man’s,” exclaimed Willie. “He 
must have dropped it.” 

“Oo-ooho-ho-Curly? Jim? Where are you!” 
called Ted from the boat. He had returned. 

4 4 Come in ! Come in ! ” shouted the boys. “We 
have something to show you.” 

Ted was properly impressed with both the cap 
and the wallet, but hurried his chums to the boat. 

“We mustn’t stay here all night, fellows,” he 
cautioned. “They might need us over to Eben’s. 
Get in, quick ! ’ ’ 

“Did Hetty telephone for my father?” asked 
Jimmie. 

“Guess so. I ran up and told her to. The 
‘Flier’ moaned a lot when they lifted him up the 
banking on the other side. He’s badly hurt, I 
think. ’ ’ 

“Isn’t it a beauty?” cried Willie, nodding to- 
wards the aeroplane as the boys stooped to ex- 
tinguish the beacon-fire and gather up their be- 
longings. 

4 4 Tip-top, ’ ’ assented Ted. 4 4 Sorry it threw him, 


86 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


though. But of course it was that tree hurt him 
most. Here, Curly, take this pole, and, Jim, 
hold the rope of the raft. We might as well pull 
it across with us. One-two-three — we’re off.” 

So unwillingly leaving the island and its rival 
curiosities — the ancient cave and the modern air- 
ship — the boys pushed off for Mr. Hollister’s 
pier. 


CHAPTER IX 


UNCLE GERALD 

D R. CLEARY found it advisable to remove 
the injured man immediately to Kanton 
Hospital, hence it was very late before 
Mr. Stanley returned to the farm for his two 
charges. What was his surprise to find that Hetty 
had put the youngsters to bed after warm baths 
and a cozy feast of hot cocoa and bread and but- 
ter. 

The spare room, the pride of good Hetty’s life, 
had been prepared for Mr. Stanley, and so sincere 
was the hospitality of these good souls, the Hol- 
listers, that Willie’s guardian accepted the favor 
with the fine simplicity it merited. 

“But we must make an early start to-morrow 
morning,” he announced after telephoning to 
Boston. “Mr. Thorne is impatient to see his little 
nephew. ’ ’ 

When the time for farewells arrived the fol- 
lowing morning, after a lively meal in Hetty’s 
cheerful kitchen, Ted begged the others to send 
him a post card of Bunker Hill Monument and 
then he trotted off for home, with Mr. Stanley’s 
good-by warming his rather lonely young heart. 

Hetty seemed loth to let Curly go. She had 
taken quite a fancy to the little rogue. 

87 


88 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


“Wish I could present him to you with my 
compliments. I don’t see anything attractive 
about that fuzzy little article myself,” growled 
Mr. Stanley, but there was a twinkle in his eye 
which prevented the words from wounding one’s 
feelings. Indeed, Curly pattered over to him at 
this moment, and standing on his wee hind-legs 
begged engagingly. His pink tongue lolled out, 
his dark eyes sparkled beneath his woolly mop 
and he certainly was irresistible. 

“Whoop!” Willie said, making a dash at his 
pet and cuddling him up against his neck. “I’d 
love to give him to you, Miss Hetty, but I couldn’t 
part with Curly — really, I couldn’t. We will come 
to see you often when we get home though — won’t 
we, Curly? Speak up, sir!” 

Curly spoke sharply and convincingly in his 
own particular fashion. 

Warm-hearted Hetty hugged both dog and 
master and called them “precious chicks.” She 
also kissed Jimmie, who gave her a satisfying 
hug in return. He was an affectionate child and 
long ago Hetty had proved herself his loyal 
friend. He loved her devotedly. 

Willie-Frank was struggling desperately with 
his dust coat. 

“Can’t put it on with the sleeves wrong-side 
out, young man,” remarked Mr. Stanley, reliev- 
ing the boy of the soft gray garment, twitching 
the sleeves into place and holding it accommodat- 
ingly for its owner. 

“How is the Flier?” Jimmie suddenly asked. 


UNCLE GERALD 


89 


“The flier,’ ’ repeated Mr. Stanley in a puzzled 
tone. “Oh, yon mean the poor aviator. He will 
get along nicely, Dr. Cleary and the other sur- 
geons have decided. It will be a long siege for 
him, though. By the way, he sent a kind message, 
to each of you boys, and also to Ted. He appre- 
ciated greatly the kindness all showed him. The 
contents of the wallet, he wished quite rashly to 
divide among you, but, of course, I refused to 
accept it. He was happy to see the wallet be- 
cause it contained the picture of his little daugh- 
ter of whom he is very fond.” 

“Why, it was Dolly Lambert’s picture,” blurted 
out Jimmie. “Is he Dolly’s father?” 

“Who is Dolly?” demanded Willie. 

“Ah, then you know the little girl, James?” 
remarked Mr. Stanley. “She lives here in Sted- 
ley, Mr. Lambert said. Dr. Cleary is taking a 
message to her from him.” 

“Yes, Dolly goes to school with me,” said 
Jimmie. “She’s the nicest girl in my room. All 
the boys and girls like her. She never tells tales 
and she is full of fun.” 

“Every one likes Dolly Lambert,” commented 
Miss Hetty decidedly. “She’s a bit of a tomboy, 
I reckon, and some of the ladies in town shake 
their heads over her pranks, hut she’s got a heart, 
that child has, big enough to hug the world. I 
love Dolly. Wish her father had let her come to 
me to board, hut, of course, this is a good way 
from her school. So that was Tommie Lambert, 
was it? Dear, dear me. That’s what comes of 


90 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


all these new notions, — cars without horses and 
ships sailing in the air. Nonsense — I say — all of 
’em, every one,” and Hetty pounded her foot 
down on the step so fiercely that Curly jumped. 

“An automobile isn’t nonsense, is it, Hetty?” 
asked Jimmie. “I just love to ride in one, don’t 
you, Will?” 

“Um-m-m,” assented Willie, who was now at 
the wheel of the car, striving to put Mr. Jake’s 
lessons into practice. 

4 ‘Let me try, too, will you?” said Jimmie, 
rushing over and leaping upon the step. 

“Careful, boys,” advised Mr. Stanley. “Sup- 
pose you will take Miss Hetty for a spin in your 
own car when you learn to run it?” he teased 
Willie, lifting him out by the collar and dropping 
him lightly into the tonneau. He subjected 
Jimmie to the same treatment, and both boys 
laughed. It was all in play, and Mr. Stanley’s 
fingers were gentle as well as strong. 

“Yes, yes, I will,” cried Willie-Frank. “You’ll 
come, won’t you, Miss Hetty? My car is shiny 
and brown like molasses candy.” 

“Mercy me — I’ll have a better time than Cin- 
derella in her pumpkin coach, seems to me,” 
laughed that kind lady as she advanced with 
Curly in her arms. “Good-by, you sweet little 
doggie,” she said, hugging the furry ball and 
handing him to Jimmie, not before Curly covered 
her face with kisses, however. The motor horn 
honked — hens cackled and flew to right and left 
— Shep, the fine old collie, came tearing out of the 


UNCLE GERALD 


91 


barn to bark — Myra the cook stood on the porch 
and waved her apron, Eben cheered, and amid 
much laughter and friendly good-bys the motor- 
ists started once more on their way, and the last 
they saw of Lake Drive farm as they whirled oft 
was Hetty shaking her hand at them from the 
gate. 

Both boys knelt upon the seat to wave their 
caps to her. Curly bounced out on the folded 
hood of the machine and yapped, yapped. Next 
came the splendid sensation of skimming through 
the sunny morning air along the smooth state 
road. 

Late that afternoon the big black car rolled 
merrily into “Boston Town.” 

“The Boston Opera House, Symphony Hall, 
Horticultural Hall, Mechanic’s Building, the Bos- 
ton Public Library,” chanted Mr. Stanley. He 
w T as tossing bits of information over his shoulder 
to his young companions as he steered the car 
past these various buildings on his way down a 
broad and busy avenue. Not being able to see the 
boyish faces he could not observe the disappoint- 
ment deepening there, nor was he aware that his 
efforts of amusement had failed until amid the 
bustle of Copley Square, Willie asked in mourn- 
ful tones : 

“Aren’t we going to see the Swan Boats pretty 
soon, and where is Bunker Hill?” 

“And the Stadium and the State House and 
the Common?” chimed in Jimmie. 

There was no chance for their kind guardian 


92 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


to reply, for the automobile had stopped before 
the entrance of a large hotel. Already a pompous 
looking person in hotel livery was unclasping the 
catch of the tonneau door. 

Since entering Boston the children had enjoyed 
a wonderful surprise which even the absence of 
the Swan Boats could not entirely dispel. This 
was the military appearance of the old historic 
city on this May day, 1917. 

Flags floated over public buildings, flags rippled 
from hundreds of windows and doorways along 
the busy thoroughfare, flags adorned the coat 
lapels of men and flashed triumphantly amid the 
daintiness of women’s frocks. Flags were borne 
in the hands of little children and waved by sturdy 
boys. 

But this was not all. Soldierly figures in fas- 
cinating khaki moved here and there, amid the 
passers-by. The jolly blue of the middy’s uni- 
form was also a familiar sight. Posters of Uncle 
Sam with commanding finger pointing, and the 
forcible words, “I Want You,” printed beneath, 
the Red Cross symbol, the Boy Scout uniform, 
recruiting stations and countless other evidences 
of preparedness were broadcast. 

There had been very little public demonstration 
thus far in Stedley. The proclamation of our 
President, the state of war into which our beloved 
country was plunged had stirred that small town 
to its very depths, of course, but for the most part 
Stedleyites were quiet, simple folks. Their ways 
were quiet, too. Courage and good citizenship 


UNCLE GERALD 


93 


were both implanted in their honest hearts and 
when the time for active service came, Stedley’s 
men would rise to the occasion proudly. Mean- 
while, they went about “ doing their bit” at home 
with their usual calmness. 

But in Boston ! Ah, things were gloriously dif- 
ferent here. True to her old traditions, the “Hot- 
bed of the Revolution” was once more ready and 
eager for a speedy call to arms. The soldier 
spirit of a gallant grandfather and daddy stirred 
in Willie Thorne’s veins as he saw this wealth of 
patriotic enthusiasm on every side. 

Leaving the automobile, our party entered the 
hotel. Mr. Stanley pleasantly instructed the boys 
to wait for him, while he crossed to the main desk 
to give some necessary information and instruc- 
tions. With heads uncovered the two little lads 
stood gazing reverentially at the great flag 
stretched across the wall directly in front of the 
door. The eyes of both were shining with all the 
love of Young America for that Starry Banner. 
Jimmie’s cheeks were flushed, his honest face 
aglow with pleasure. He, too, was the descend- 
ant of soldiers, and Dr. Cleary had been among 
the first of the Bay State physicians to offer his 
professional skill to the great cause. 

Curly, on his best behavior, had stationed him- 
self close to his master’s side. Many guests, as 
they hurried in and out, as well as those strolling 
about at leisure, smiled kindly at the children. 
They made a pretty picture as they thus silently 
saluted the Stars and Stripes. Curly, with his 


94 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


pert little head erect and bright eyes gleaming 
beneath the soft, white tangle of his hair, added 
to the quaintness of the tableau. 

But just at this moment an unexpected happen- 
ing took place. 

Something clattered to the floor at Willie’s feet, 
and a testy voice exclaimed : 

“Pick it up, child. Be quick! Are manners 
taught at all in the schools or homes these days 
I’d like to know! Gray hairs seem to merit no 
respect from the rising generation!” 

Stooping, the little boy raised the heavy walk- 
ing stick and viewed its owner with wide-eyed 
surprise. A cross old gentleman, in alighting 
from one of the elevators, had accidentally 
dropped his cane right at the feet of our three 
friends. He was limping painfully as he ad- 
vanced to receive it from Willie’s hand. 

Recovering from his amazement at the severity 
and suddenness of the stranger’s reproof, the 
child bounded forward. 

“Here it is, sir,” he said gently, but the im- 
patient old gentleman had caught sight of Mr. 
Stanley. 

“Why, Stan, it’s good to see you back. Took 
you long enough, though,” he ended his greeting 
in a growling tone. 

“Good afternoon,” Mr. Stanley remarked cor- 
dially. “We were delayed, as you know. How is 
the foot?” 

“Bad! Stan — very bad. Haven’t known an 
easy moment since you left. So these are the 


UNCLE GERALD 


95 


children — well — well — tut-tut. Which is Willie! 
Not the plain one with the bushy head of curls, 
I hope. ' ' He glanced at our hero, who seemed to 
find something fascinating in the fierce old face. 

Come, now, that's too severe a criticism alto- 
gether, ^ remonstrated Mr. Stanley. ‘ ‘ William is 
a fine little fellow, curls or no curls, and this is 
James. He, too, is a perfect gentleman.' ’ 

But Jimmie edged away and Curly followed his 
example. Neither of them approved of this irri- 
table stranger. 

“Let me assist you," said Mr. Stanley politely. 
“I presume you will want to return to the suite 
with us." 

“Yes — yes — might as well. Wasted all morn- 
ing watching for you. Dull when you're away, 
Stanley. No one to talk to. No one to fight with." 

“Well, I like that!" began Willie's and Jim- 
mie 's kind protector. ‘ ‘ Come, boys ! ' ' 

There was little time in the elevator for con- 
versation, but Jimmie's bitter disappointment and 
Willie's amazement were somewhat lessened by 
their interest in the working of the car and their 
delight in the sensation of speeding upward and 
feeling the swift rush of air. 

“Straight down the corridor, boys," directed 
Mr. Stanley, as they alighted on the seventh floor. 
He was giving his arm and kind attention to his 
companion, who grumbled: 

“Don't push into my room, the door is open. 
I won't have that miserable dog cluttering up my 


96 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


belongings. Keep right on until you come to your 
own room, children.’ ’ 

Glad to escape from that irritable voice the lads 
hurried along the hall as fast as possible. 

‘ 4 Will, did you think your uncle was so old and 
— and so cross?” Jimmie looked at his friend 
anxiously. He didn’t mean to be rude, but he was 
so upset that he blurted out his dismay at the 
very first opportunity. 

Willie stopped short and looked hard at Jimmie, 
and then laughed. “Say, Jimmie Cleary, do you 
think that old gentleman is my uncle?” 

“Of course,” said Jimmie. “Don’t you?” 

“No, siree-ee,” declared Willie, decidedly. 

“Well, where is he then?” asked Jimmie. 

“I don’t know, but somehow I’m sure — ever so 
sure, that he isn’t my Uncle Gerald. Why, Uncle 
Gerald must be a little like Daddy. You know 
that man isn’t one bit. Besides, Uncle Gerald 
laughs a lot. Mr. Stanley told me so.” 

“Curly, Curly, come here! Oh, Will, he’s gone 
to his room after all! Call him back quick!” 
Jimmie moaned in distressed accents. 

Yes — there was Master Curly coolly sniffing at 
the threshold. Now he had pushed his tiny head 
inside the half-open door and before Willie could 
cry had disappeared from view. 

“Get that dog! Go after him, do you hear — 
call him — punish him — take him out of my room. 
I won’t have him in there, I say. Run, William!” 
All this from the peevish old gentleman. 

Like a flash Willie pursued his pet, but when he 


UNCLE GERALD 


97 


crossed the threshold it was only to see Curly 
wriggling his way through another door. He de- 
parted yelping joyfully. Willie paused. A sound 
had reached his ears which made him forget the 
cross stranger and disobedient Curly. 

Some one was playing, and oh, how splendidly 
he was doing it, too. And the air! Ah, that 
was what sent Willie speeding after Curly, for 
the tune was “ Marching Through Georgia.” 
There was a crash as of startled hands falling 
abruptly on the keys, an exclamation, and then a 
ringing, merry, delightful laugh. 

‘ 4 Whose little dog are you?” a deep, pleasant 
voice boomed merrily. 

1 ‘ Mine, if you please, ’ ’ answered Willie prompt- 
ly. “He ran away. I tried to stop him. He 
didn’t mean any harm. He loves music; I guess 
that’s why, sir.” 

In a distant corner of this interesting looking 
room was a piano. At it sat a big, broad-shoul- 
dered man, with thick, wavy gray hair. He 
whirled on the stool and faced Willie-Frank. 

Our hero gasped. The man’s face was burned 
to a crisp, deep brown from the sun, and out of 
the dark setting laughed a pair of kind gray eyes 
and flashed a set of strong, white teeth. He wore 
a dark green bath-robe on which jolly dragons 
danced and capered. There was a crutch resting 
against the piano. 

“ Oh ! ” cried Willie-Frank, his small voice trem- 
bling with eagerness. 


98 WILLIE-FEANK OF STEDLEY 


“Ah!” said the big man, whose voice softened 
tenderly. 

Two green arms covered with yellow dragons 
were outstretched lovingly and Willie-Frank 
rushed headlong across the room and tumbled into 
them. 

“Uncle Gerald!” he screamed joyfully. “I 
knew — I just knew you’d look like Daddy. I’m 
so glad.” 

“So am I, Bill,” laughed the deep rich voice. 
“More glad than you can guess, my little man!” 


CHAPTER X 


SWAN BOATS 

A LITTLE girl with fiery red hair hanging 
in two long pig-tails down her back, walked 
up and down in front of the refreshment 
cart which stood near the Charles Street entrance 
of Boston Common. 

“ Don’t the pop-corn balls look nice, Jessie? 
Don’t they, Johnnie?” she remarked to the small, 
sunny girl and sulky hoy who tagged at her heels. 

“Um-hm, um-hm,” Jessie agreed, skipping 
merrily. 

“ Don’t want pop-corn halls,” bellowed scowl- 
ing Johnnie. “Want a cone. Get me a cone.” 

The kind face of the little red-haired girl 
clouded, but her voice was very tender and per- 
suasive as she bent over him: 

“We could get five of the big puffy balls, 
Johnnie dear, for our nickel, but if I buy a cone 
there wouldn’t be only a taste of ice-cream for 
each of us. Only one cone for five cents, you 
know, ’ ’ and she looked down at the precious nickel 
lying in her hot little hand. 

‘ ‘ I want a cone. Sha ’n ’t eat old pop-corn balls, ’ ’ 
yelled the disagreeable child, kicking up a big 
cloud of dust, as though to show his sister that 
he was not to be trifled with. 

99 


100 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


u O dear!” she said, with a tiny catch in her 
voice; “I ’spose we have to get what you want, 
Johnnie, or you’ll he cross all day and spoil our 
fun. But mind!” she added sternly, “if I do buy 
a cone you must share it up with Jessie. You 
can’t have a whole five cents’ worth for yourself.” 

With that Johnnie emitted a terrible howl of 
protest and was about to throw himself down on 
the ground and kick, an action which always 
brought this indulgent little sister to terms when 
something happened. 

A sturdy grip was on Johnnie’s collar, a small 
but strong hand was clapped over Johnnie’s wide- 
open mouth, a dependable looking boy of about 
eight years of age faced the little girl with his 
honest blue eyes flashing : 

“Go ahead and buy what you want. Don’t 
mind him. I ’ll keep him quiet. ’ ’ 

Johnnie was too much surprised to finish out 
the yell he had begun even had he been able to do 
so. He squirmed around and tried to look at his 
captor. 

The motherly little girl with red hair flew pro- 
tectingly to the rescue. 

“Let go — let go,” she cried. “He didn’t do 
anything to you. Don’t you dare to hurt him.” 
She tugged fiercely at the strange boy’s serge 
sleeve. He held fast to Johnnie, however, but re- 
garded his sister with kindness in his gaze, 
remarking dryly, “I’m not hurting him. I can’t; 
he’s under my size. I’m only just managing him, 
that’s all.” 


SWAN BOATS 


101 


Jimmie Cleary, for it was he, stumbled some- 
what over the word “managing,” but it had re- 
curred to his memory as splendidly appropriate. 

The man who was selling fruit to a small, old- 
fashioned lady in a rusty black silk dress, laughed 
at Jimmie’s reassuring reply as though it gave 
him much amusement. 

In due time Johnnie was released, and in spite 
of Lizzie ’s fear that he might ‘ ‘ take on worse than 
ever” he sprang away from Jimmie with a cheer- 
ful grin of admiration. 

“Are you going to ride on the Swan Boats?” 
asked Jimmie pleasantly, addressing all three. 
He had his hands in his pockets now. “I am,” he 
announced joyously. 

“Oh, isn’t that lovely!” exclaimed Lizzie, her 
face shining. “Do you hear him, Johnnie dear?” 

“Huh — huh,” nodded Johnnie, edging over 
nearer and nearer to his gentle sister. 

Jessie hopped up and down in front of Jimmie 
and asked, “If we sit on a bench near the shore 
will you wave to us? We’re going to feed the 
swans, but, oh, I wish we could sail on their backs 
like you’re going to do. See, we brought lunch 
with us.” 

She was a lively little creature and in a moment 
had lifted the cover of the Uneeda cracker box 
which she carried. Within Jimmie saw a few 
pieces of dry bread and some small bits of cheese. 
He was too manly to mention the fact that he 
thought such fare far from tempting. He smiled 
brightly and assured Jessie that he would be sure 


102 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


to wave, and then the procession started off for 
the gardens; Johnnie running ahead and glancing 
back now and then as though to be sure that the 
older boy was following; Jessie dancing after 
him, her tiny feet no less active because encased 
in broken shoes, and last of all, patient Lizzie 
carefully guarding the precious pop-corn balls. 

“Pm so glad,” she thought, “that I was able to 
buy them instead of a cone. They seem like lots 
and we won ’t be so hungry. ’ 9 

“Don’t you like cones?” shouted Jimmie from 
the distance. She turned and smiled back at him 
wistfully. 

“Oh, yes, ever so much; but all we had to spend 
was five cents, you see,” she answered. 

“Oh!” ejaculated Jimmie. Then he grinned 
cheerfully. “I know how it is,” he assured her. 
“I’ve often had the crowd of fellows, twenty 
maybe, all telling me how to spend a dime. I’ve 
got lots of money to-day, though. See ! 9 9 He held 
up a crisp piece of green paper. It was a dollar 
bill. 

Lizzie ’s eyes grew large with surprise. ‘ ‘ My ! ’ 9 
was all she could say at first. “Oh, dear, there’s 
Johnnie bumping into some one. Good-by,” she 
cried hastily, as the sound of a scolding voice 
from the sidewalk fell upon her ear. 

“Bye,” said Jimmie, and strolled back to the 
cart. When he reached the entrance to the gar- 
dens some five minutes later it was to find an irate 
old gentleman awaiting him, hobbling up and 
down, thumping his stout cane on the pavement. 


SWAN BOATS 


103 


i ‘ Where have you been, boy?” he thundered. 
“I’ll not play nursemaid another day, mark my 
words! Jerry Thorne is going crazy. Piling 
young desperadoes from his one-horse town on 
his shoulders and on mine, too, and on poor Stan- 
ley’s.” More thumps of the cane and then, “ Well, 
are you ready for those pesky sailing toys now?” 

One day in this quarrelsome gentleman’s com- 
pany had changed Jimmie’s first opinion greatly. 
Wasn’t he kind Mr. Stanley’s oldest friend? In 
fact when Mr. Stanley was a little boy like Jimmie 
he had been very poor and this person, whose gen- 
erous heart was often hidden behind a blustering 
temper, had adopted him and educated him. Of 
course now that Mr. Stanley was prosperous him- 
self, it was a happy pleasure for him to share his 
good fortune with his former protector. 

Willie and Jimmie could quite understand that, 
being warm-hearted, loving little chaps them- 
selves. Besides, Mr. Trent, that was the old gen- 
tleman’s name, had proved himself a delightful 
story teller. He had also planned numerous sur- 
prises for the two little boys with as keen a pleas- 
ure as even Uncle Gerald and Mr. Stanley dis- 
played. True he fretted and he scolded and he 
fumed and he found fault with them constantly, 
also with Curly, but he always ended up by con- 
tradicting his surly words with kindly actions. 

Jimmie liked him very much now and was not 
one mite afraid of him. 

“ Which color do you like best, Mr. Trent, white 
or pink or chocolate?” demanded the boy ex- 


104 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


ultantly. Both brown hands were full of ice- 
cream cones, six in all. 

Mr. Trent gasped. “Have you bought out the 
ice-cream cart with my money ?” he roared; but 
Jimmie smiled up at him roguishly. 

“You told me to spend it just as I wanted to,” 
he said gayly. “So I did. Have the pink one; 
strawberry flavor is ripping, you know. I ’ll have 
a pink one, too. And Will likes chocolate, so 
here’s his. Hold them, will you, just a second, 
please,” and Jimmie dashed off, leaving his as- 
tonished guardian juggling three overflowing 
cones with one hand and grasping his cane with 
the other. 

“Nonsense — arrant nonsense. I won’t stand 
for it. I’ll tell Jerry so as soon as I get back to 
the hotel. At my time of life, too !” he sputtered. 
But he took good care of Jimmie’s cones all the 
same, and he walked slowly into the gardens after 
the flying boy. 

“Hi, there, wait a minute, please,” caroled a 
friendly voice. 

Lizzie, guiding her two charges toward an 
empty bench near the pond, stopped and looked 
over her shoulder. Johnnie looked, too, and then 
took to his heels in terror. He thought Jimmie 
was after him again because he had just pushed 
Jessie rudely. Jessie looked and with a gladsome 
little cry tripped back to meet the approaching 
child. 

“What color do you like best?” asked Jimmie. 
“White or chocolate or pink?” 


SWAN BOATS 105 

u White — white/ ’ gurgled Jessie, clapping her 
hands. 

Jimmie extended the vanilla ice-cream cone. 

“Oh, Lizzie, he’s giving me a cone, see, oh, 
see!” cried the happy child. 

“What color do you like?” continued Jimmie, 
addressing Lizzie. 

“.Do you mean for me to choose a cone for my- 
self?” gasped Lizzie, her patient, tired face aglow 
with surprise and delight. 

“Yes, and I hope you like brown, because this 
chocolate one is jolly full. The man heaped it up 
good and high.” 

“I love chocolate!” whispered Lizzie hoarsely. 
“Oh, is it truly mine?” 

“Surest thing you know,” laughed the lad. 
“Now, Johnnie, here’s a pink one for you. It’s a 
beauty; but you’ve got to promise something or 
I won’t give it to you.” 

Johnnie had peeped out from behind a tree, and 
when he saw how interesting Jimmie and his gifts 
looked he had come slowly back to Lizzie’s side. 

“What’ll I promise?” he asked eagerly. 

“Not to be so mean and piggy ever, ever again. 
Why, in Stedley, we duck a fellow in the lake if 
he’s greedy and — well, a bully — that’s what you 
were, Johnnie.” 

Johnnie’s knuckles sought his eyes — Johnnie 
wailed, and Jimmie’s tender heart relented. 

“There, there,” he said in exact imitation of 
his father’s manner toward himself after a repri- 
mand. ‘ ‘ Perk up — you ’ll never be so mean again, 


106 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


I know. Here, try your cone, it ’s jolly. I ’m going 
back for mine. ’ ’ He started off at a trot, leaving 
three ecstatic little mortals lapping, eating and 
sucking their delicious treat. 

“Do you imagine for an instant, my fine f el- 
low/ ’ demanded Mr. Trent, 4 ‘that I intend to be 
made a show of in this fashion every hour of the 
day?” 

“Eat it, Mr. Trent. Hurrah! Mine’s fine. I’ll 
hold Will’s. I hope it won’t melt before he comes. 
Let ’s sit here until we finish them. Will you ? ’ ’ 

Grumblingly Mr. Trent, led on by Jimmie’s en- 
thusiasm, permitted himself to be coaxed first into 
sitting down on a very conspicuous bench and 
then into tasting the ice-cream. At the shrieking 
sound of a familiar motor-horn he started guiltily 
and looked toward the street. 

Mr. Stanley from the wheel was laughing at the 
old gentleman mischievously. A small boy bound- 
ed out of the machine and rushed in through the 
gate and over to Jimmie’s side. 

“Goody!” he cried. “Did you buy some for 
us, too, Jim?” 

But both Jimmie and Mr. Trent were staring at 
the child as though he were a stranger. 

“Ha-ha-ha!” he laughed, tossing up his straw 
hat and then catching it carefully, suddenly re- 
membering how new and fine it was. “Don’t you 
know me? I’m Will Thorne, of course. Don’t 
I look great though?” 

Jimmie stared and stared and the melting ice- 
cream from Willie’s long suffering cone dropped 


SWAN BOATS 


107 


down in a little chocolate stream on to Jimmie’s 
suit, but he never noticed it. 

Mr. Trent rose stiffly, tossed his half eaten 
dainty into a nearby receptacle for rubbish and 
muttered gruffly : 

“ Stan and I can go now for a quiet spin. Don’t 
fall into that pond and be sure you meet us at the 
Arlington Street gate at three. Do you hear?” 

4 ‘Yes, sir, we will,” agreed Willie. 

Suddenly Jimmie “came to,” as he expressed 
it. ‘ ‘ Mr. Trent, ’ ’ he shouted after that retreating 
figure, “I forgot poor Mr. Stanley. I didn’t get 
him a cone at all. ’ ’ 

“Well, he won’t lose much,” growled the old 
gentleman and then he marched stiffly out the 
gate and across the street. Mr. Stanley soon 
helped him into the machine and they motored off 
in the direction of Beacon Street. 

“Where are your curls?” demanded Jimmie. 

“All gone,” laughed Willie, who was now mak- 
ing quick work of his cone. “Catch on to the 
pockets, Jim. Aren’t they fine? I guess I have 
more than you by a lot. ’ ’ 

Jimmie walked around and around his friend. 
Bereft of girlish curls, his bright head held very 
high, Willie-Frank stood glorying in all the dig- 
nity of his first step toward manhood. A real boy 
suit now replaced his more childish Russian 
blouses. He had placed his new hat on the bench. 

“You certainly are great,” praised Jimmie 
after he had taken Willie’s altered appearance in 
from all viewpoints. “Count your pockets.” 


108 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


Such excitement as followed! Jimmie pulled 
out all his pockets, placing the treasures contained 
in them in an orderly pile on the bench. Willie 
followed his example. His suit was so new that 
only one pocket was in use so far. In pulling this 
out for inspection, jingling coins tumbled out and 
scattered in all directions. Both boys pursued 
them and soon were kneeling down in front of the 
bench counting Willie’s small hoard to see that 
no frisky penny, nickel or dime had escaped them. 

“We have heaps of money, haven’t we?” re- 
marked Jimmie. 

“Ninety-five cents,” Willie-Frank stated joy- 
fully. “I spent five getting weighed.” 

“I have seventy cents,” explained Jimmie. 
“I spent thirty for the cones.” 

Willie sat back on his heels. “My, you must 
have bought a lot, Jim, ’ ’ he remarked. 

“Six,” answered Jimmie promptly. “I gave 
three away to Lizzie and Jessie and Johnnie.” 

“Who are Lizzie and Jessie and Johnnie?” 
queried his chum with eager interest. 

Jimmie entertained him with a funny account 
of his adventure in the Common. Willie laughed 
heartily. “Perhaps we’ll meet them on the Swan 
Boats, ’ ’ he said. “I’d like to see them first rate. ’ ’ 

“That’s just it,” the other lad replied. “They 
can’t ride on the Swan Boats. They haven’t any 
money, you know ; all they had was that nickel. I 
was wondering if we could give them some of 
ours.” 

“Sure — sure! Oh, that’s fine. Come on, let’s 


SWAN BOATS 


109 


find them and do it now. They can sit with ns 
and we’ll have a jolly time. Perhaps we could get 
the front seat like we did yesterday. Come on!” 
He gathered his wealth up and thrust it hack into 
his pocket, seized Jimmie’s hand and was scam- 
pering oft, when his comrade reminded him of his 
new hat which was still lying on the bench. Toss- 
ing it on his shorn head, Willie eagerly set off 
again, Jimmie at his side. 

“Want to ride with us on the Swan Boat?” 
Jimmie asked. He and Willie had crept softly up 
behind the seat near the pond on which the three 
children sat. They were feeding a stately swan 
and enjoying their lunch and corn-balls, Lizzie 
jumped. 

‘ 6 This is Will Thorne, my chum, ’ ’ said Jimmie. 
“We want you to sail on the pond with us. Will 
you ? ’ ’ 

“Will we?” asked Lizzie with a long-drawn-out 
shriek of joy, “say — just ask us — that’s all,” and 
her sad young face lost all its care-worn expres- 
sion and assumed a droll, merry look of absolute 
delight. 


CHAPTER XI 


THE MAN IN THE CHECKED SUIT 

W E are asking you,” laughed Willie-Frank. 
“Come on! Are you Johnnie?” he de- 
manded, clutching the little boy’s hand. 
“Yes.” 

“Well, we can run over and get the tickets. 
Let’s hurry. We want to ride on the first boat.” 

Such a happy party ! They succeeded in secur- 
ing the very front bench. 

How charming its brilliant red paint seemed to 
Lizzie, how nice the man was who sailed their 
pretty craft. Jimmie called him Captain and he 
seemed well acquainted with both lads. 

“We rode around five times yesterday,” an- 
nounced Willie-Frank to Jessie. 1 ‘ When my uncle 
gets well he says he will take us out in a real boat. 
I want to learn to row, but I think this is lots of 
fun. ’ ’ 

“So do I,” chirped happy little Jessie. 

Just at this point Willie nearly lost his hat and 
he hopped about in such a funny way trying to 
save it from a watery dip that all the children 
laughed gleefully. 

“Will had curls just like Jessie’s yesterday,” 
teased Jimmie, “but he went and had them cut off 
this morning and now his hat never stays on.” 
no 


THE MAN IN THE CHECKED SUIT 111 


i ‘ Jimmie didn ’t know me when he saw me after 
they were cut off,’’ retorted Willie. 

“Were they just like mine?” questioned little 
Jessie curiously. 

“Almost,” answered Willie, hut he hastened 
to add, “I didn’t like them because I’m a boy. I 
didn’t want to look like a girl, of course. When 
Uncle Gerald told Jim and me we could have a 
wish and it would be granted, I wished to have 
those curls cut off and he laughed and said they 
could be clipped as soon as I liked. I went to the 
barber-shop with Mr. Stanley this morning and 
the barber cut them off quick as a wink and he put 
some perfume on my head. Can you smell it?” 

“I can,” piped up Johnnie. “It’s fine.” 

‘ 1 Then Mr. Stanley took me down to a big store 
and told the man to show us some real suits of 
clothes. This is one of them. It’s splendid. It 
has lots of pockets. Say, what did you wish for, 
Jimmie?” 

“A post-card of Bunker Hill for Ted. Mr. 
Thorne bought me a whole package and I sent lots 
of them away. I slipped them down the mail 
chute. It was sport.” 

“Bunker Hill, all of them?” asked Lizzie, much 
interested. 

“Oh, no, lots of places. There was one of the 
State House.” 

“Whom did you mail that card to, Jim?” asked 
Willie eagerly. 

“To Mamma. I sent her four and Papa two 
and Elbe one and Ted two, and I sent a picture 


112 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


of these Swan Boats to Mr. Lambert, the aviator. 
Mr. Thorne wrote some of them for me because 
my hand got tired. ’ ’ 

4 ‘ Look at the island !” shouted Johnnie. 

The Swan Boat was gracefully gliding past the 
shore of the pretty miniature island situated in 
the center of the pond. This reminded Jimmie 
and Willie of their moonlight adventure on an- 
other island a few nights previous. In chorus 
they told the story to open-mouthed Johnnie, 
eager-eyed Jessie and admiring Lizzie. A young 
man who sat on the bench behind them seemed to 
find this story very interesting. He followed the 
children as they rose to leave the Swan Boats at 
the completion of their trip. 

“Lizzie, let’s give ’em the two pop-corn balls 
that are left,” whispered affectionate Jessie, 
cuddling up closer to her sister. She put her 
small palm up over her mouth and thought only 
Lizzie could hear her, but J ohnnie heard, too, and 
startled both his sisters by his unexpected gen- 
erosity. 

“Sure, give ’em to ’em now,” he agreed, bob- 
bing his head encouragingly. 

Lizzie bent over and handed the pink ball to 
Willie and the white one to Jimmie. Both boys 
were delighted. 

“Thanks ever so much,” said Willie. “You 
haven’t any though for yourself. Here. Here, 
everybody take a bite out of mine.” 

‘ ‘ And mine, too, ’ ’ cried Jimmie eagerly. Even 
the Swan Boat man must have his share, the chil- 


THE MAN IN THE CHECKED SUIT 113 


dren all declared, but he refused pleasantly. 
Some older people were boarding the Swan Boats 
now, and many children. Every one watched our 
jolly little party of five with considerable inter- 
est. The young man who had left the boat when 
they did lingered close to them on the landing. 

“Wish we had the bundle Eugene gave me,” 
confided Willie to Jimmie. 

“Oh, cheers! I have it,” exclaimed Jimmie 
joyously. “I took it with me this morning when 
I started out. Thought we might want it.” And 
lo ! Jimmie plunged his hand inside his blouse and 
drew forth a brown paper parcel which had been 
reduced to a somewhat squashy condition. 

“Hurrah!” shouted impetuous Willie, jumping 
up and swaying to and fro with delight. “It’s 
something Mammy Dorcas made,” he explained 
to his three new friends. “We were to eat it at 
a hungry place on the road, but we haven’t had 
one tiny chance to use it before. There was al- 
ways something else. Open it quick, Jim ! 
Quick ! ’ ’ 

Seated on the grass and not far from the wa- 
ter’s edge, bumping heads together and laughing 
merrily, our young friends explored the contents 
of the mysterious package. 

“Ginger-bread men, oh, my!” shouted Willie. 

“See the pretty buttons,” sang Jessie. 

Yes, ginger-bread men they were. “Jolly 
ones,” according to Jimmie’s version. They had 
currant eyes and red candied caraway seeds for 
mouths, and as Jessie had remarked, gorgeous 


114 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


buttons down the front of their ginger-bread 
coats. These were pink and green candied cara- 
way seeds. 

Such fun, such feasting! Such laughter as fol- 
lowed this discovery. Perhaps you imagine that 
these famous ginger-bread men were stale. I can 
only vouch for their state of perfection by quot- 
ing what Johnnie said in the exuberance of his 
first nibble : 

“This is the goodest cake I ever did taste.’ ’ 

“I don’t want to eat my dolly. I want to take 
it home to play with,” gurgled happy Jessie. 

“Oh, eat it,” urged practical Jimmie, “that’s 
what Mammy Dorcas made it for.” 

“What will we do next?” asked Willie when 
the excitement over the ginger-bread men had 
somewhat subsided. 

“I wish we could ride in one of those real 
boats,” announced Jimmie, gazing longingly at a 
rowboat marked “Water Sprite,” in which two 
older lads were enjoying themselves midway in 
the pond. 

“Suppose you come with me,” said a strange 
voice pleasantly. “I’ll give you all a little trip 
around the pond and let you help me with one 
oar. ’ ’ 

In great surprise the children all looked up to 
see the young man who had been sitting behind 
them on the Swan Boat, leaning lazily against a 
nearby tree, his hat in his hand, a smile on his 
lips. “Wouldn’t you like to sail with me?” he 
asked in the same friendly tone, as none of the 


THE MAN IN THE CHECKED SUIT 115 


little ones answered his first question, so great 
was their amazement. 

4 ‘Yes, sir, we would, thank you,” smiled Willie- 
Frank. “But, but maybe we would be too much 
trouble,’ ’ he added, making a brave attempt at 
politeness although eagerness shone in his eyes. 

“No trouble at all, bless your hearts. Come 
along,” the friendly stranger replied cordially, 
and soon he was hiring one of the fascinating 
row-boats and helping Jessie and Lizzie in. Wil- 
lie-Frank, Johnnie and Jimmie made quick work 
of their own entrances into the boat. Willie 
landed with his usual bounce of joy and set the 
little craft into agitated motion. The man 
laughed as he took up the oars and pulled away 
from the landing. He was a jolly person with a 
droll freckled face. He had light hair, light blue 
eyes and a funny smile. He wore a black and 
white checked suit. 

From the moment they were all seated in the 
craft he seemed to forget the rest of the party 
and talked only to Willie-Frank. Although the 
lively little fellow turned often to the rest, asking 
them questions and trying to give them a chance 
to talk, too, their strange host paid no attention 
whatever to any remarks made by Jimmie or the 
others. He insisted on showing Willie how to use 
the one oar with him, he praised the child, he 
questioned him with great interest concerning the 
aviator of whom he said he had overheard them 
talking on the Swan Boat. 


116 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


“Your Uncle is Mr. Thorne, isn’t he?” he said 
suddenly. 

“Oh, yes,” nodded Willie. “Do you know 
Uncle Gerald?” 

“Yes, but I have only a slight personal ac- 
quaintance with him; it is chiefly by the fame of 
some of his inventions that I know him best,” the 
man replied. “I suppose he has a wonderful 
workshop down there at his big estate in the coun- 
try — Stedley, isn’t that the name of the place?” 

Willie was too busy with his struggles at the 
oar to answer this question and so no more was 
said about Mr. Thorne for awhile. Jimmie was 
more than usually quiet as he sat trailing his 
hands in the water over the side of the boat. Sud- 
denly he pulled out his small silver watch of which 
he was very proud. His family had given it to 
him on his eighth birthday and Jimmie knew well 
how much love and sacrifice had gone into that 
little watch, for the Clearys were not wealthy peo- 
ple, they were too generous to others in need to 
ever have very much for themselves. 

“Hi, Will, it’s nearly time to meet Mr. Trent 
and Mr. Stanley. I guess we will have to get back 
to the shore.” 

“Oh, is it? I nearly forgot,” exclaimed Willie. 

‘ ‘ Going to meet some one ? ’ 9 queried the man. 

“Yes, sir. We promised to be at the Arlington 
Street gate at three o’clock. We are going in the 
auto to see Bunker Hill and some other nice places 
with Mr. Stanley.” 

“Ah, I see; then our pleasant little sail must 


THE MAN IN THE CHECKED SUIT 117 


come to an abrupt end. Well, all right, I’ll strike 
out for the shore. I’m very glad I had a chance 
to give you a trip, even though it was so short. 
I suppose you will be going sightseeing to Wash- 
ington with your Uncle soon, Willie ?” 

“To Washington with Uncle Gerald? He 
didn’t say he was going anywhere but to Sted- 
ley,” said Willie in a puzzled tone. 

“Oh, don’t say I mentioned it,” the man re- 
marked carelessly, “of course, Mr. Thorne 
wouldn’t be apt to tell little boys his secrets. I 
let it slip in an unguarded moment. He has a 
wonderful workshop, I hear, down in Stedley.” 

“I don’t know. Has he, Jimmie?” questioned 
Willie-Frank, but Jimmie seemed tongue-tied or 
deaf, for he answered never a word and barely 
thanked the stranger as he sprang out of the boat 
as it touched the landing. 

i ‘ Good-by and thank you very, very much, ’ ’ said 
Willie blithely as he hopped out last of all. “ I ’ll 
tell my Uncle how nice you were to us. What is 
your name, please?” 

“Oh, pshaw, don’t mention it. I like young- 
sters and enjoy seeing them happy. No, don’t 
tell your Uncle about me. He’s a big man. He 
wouldn’t remember me. I’m not an important 
personage, young Willie. Good-by, we may meet 
again some time. Until then good luck.” 

As the children walked slowly over the central 
bridge through the gardens to Arlington Street, 
Jimmie said decidedly, “I don’t like that man.” 

“Don’t you?” said Willie; “well, isn’t it funny, 


118 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


Jimmie, I didn’t like him as well after we got 
into the boat as I thought I would.” 

Lizzie, Johnnie and Jessie did not hear these 
remarks ; they were following slowly after Willie 
and Jimmie and seemed happy over their two un- 
expected pleasures. 

Three o’clock arrived and so did Mr. Stanley. 
As he steered the automobile up to the Arlington 
Street gate, a strange sight awaited him. Willie 
and Jimmie were the “end men” of a fascinating 
row of happy little faces. In between were Liz- 
zie’s joyful countenance, Jessie’s dimpled cheeks 
and Johnnie’s freckled nose. 

“Ah, some friends you have met, I presume,” 
said Mr. Stanley kindly. “Where do you live, 
little folks!” 

A street in the west end was mentioned by Liz- 
zie. “Good-by,” she called sweetly, marshaling 
her little band of three and waving to Jimmie and 
Willie as they entered the shining car. Johnnie 
stood spellbound, eyeing all the splendor of his 
recent playmates. 

Mr. Stanley jumped out, helped Lizzie in before 
she quite knew what he was about, swung Jessie 
and Johnnie in after her, slammed the door and 
started off. 

“What are you thinking of, Stan!” growled 
old Mr. Trent. 

‘ ‘ Poor little tads, ’ ’ laughed Mr. Stanley. ‘ 4 Just 
take a look at their faces.” 

Jimmie and Willie enjoyed that ride every bit 
as much as did Lizzie and Johnnie and Jessie. 


THE MAN IN THE CHECKED SUIT 119 


Up the hill to the State House they rolled and 
then on to Charlestown and saw the wonder of 
wonders to them, the famous monument. Next 
came a ride along a road fresh and bracing with 
salt breezes, and lo, soon the car rolled along the 
Revere Beach boulevard, stopped, and Mr. Stan- 
ley opened the door of the tonneau and bade the 
children run down to the sand and the sea. 

Between Mr. Stanley’s and Mr. Trent’s indul- 
gence, a happy party of youngsters rode home to 
Boston two hours later, armed with bags of pop- 
corn, air balloons of gay colors and many sou- 
venirs of their trip to Revere Beach. They drove 
to the door of the tenement house where Lizzie 
and her little brother and sister lived. Mr. Stan- 
ley lifted them out, each in turn, raised his cap 
and said good-by kindly. 

“Good-by!” screamed Willie and Jimmie. But 
already Jessie and Lizzie and Johnnie were sur- 
rounded by an admiring throng, clamoring for in- 
formation regarding their “grand adventure.” 

“Oh, Uncle Gerald, isn’t Mr. Stanley great?” 
enthused Willie when he went in to kiss his Uncle 
good-night just before bed-time. 

“Fact,” said Uncle Gerald in his gay, banter- 
ing way, then he added gravely, “I know of no 
better hero for a lad to copy than our dear old 
Stan, do you?” 

“Yes, I do,” piped up Jimmie. “You.” 

Jolly Uncle Gerald sent a big plump pillow fly- 
ing straight at Jimmie then. All boys know what 
a merry, mad romp followed. 


120 WILLIE -FRANK ’ OF STEDLEY 


At last a big, blustering doctor who was fa- 
mous for bis skill and equally famous for bis love 
of small boys, came in and added to tbe hilarity. 
Then be sent the lads off to their own rooms to 
bed by telling them that jolly Mr. Thorne would 
never get well unless he “cut out all this fooling.” 

That frightened Willie and Jimmie so much 
that they gave their beloved “Uncle Gerald” a 
warm hug apiece and scampered away with his 
big booming laugh ringing in their ears. 

Jimmie was still struggling with a boot lace 
when nimble Willie in pajamas knelt down to say 
his prayers. He had a custom of praying out loud 
and Jimmie always enjoyed listening, although he 
said his own in whispers. 

“Oh, dear God,” Willie said at the end of his 
devotions that night, “thank You ever so much 
for all my jolly surprises and for Uncle Gerald 
and Mr. Stanley and Jimmie and Lizzie and Jes- 
sie and Johnnie and Mr. Trent.” 

“Amen,” joined in Jimmie quite unexpectedly. 
Curly rose from his rug at the foot of Willie’s bed 
and barked sharply. Jimmie’s shout had awak- 
ened him from his first beauty sleep. Soon all 
was quiet in the room. Willie and Jimmie and 
Curly had sailed away on that “mystic sea, where 
the old shoe rocked the fishermen three, Wynken, 
Blynken and Nod.” 


CHAPTER XII 


THE BIRD STORE 

U NCLE GERALD’S big, jolly doctor lived 
at the hotel and had a daughter named 
Janet Fenmore. She and her little cousin, 
Augusta Pierce, who was visiting her, became 
fast friends of Willie and Jimmie. 

The older girl was a charming comrade to all 
little children. She was sweet, vivacious and most 
refined and so strongly did she remind Jimmie of 
his sister, Ellie, that he in particular loved her 
devotedly. 

Augusta was a gentle little maiden. Willie 
and Jimmie found her a perfect playmate. She 
had soft, golden-brown curls and serious hazel 
eyes. When she smiled, two roguish dimples 
popped in and out of her cheeks and made her 
look like some merry, wee fairy ready for a frolic. 

Curly was her abject slave from the first mo- 
ment he saw her. He loved to follow her about 
and chase her ball. He was so supremely happy 
after she petted or praised him that he used to 
roll over on his back and wave all his paws in 
delight. 

One afternoon when J anet was entertaining the 
children she was obliged to go to take her music 
lesson, so asked her little friends if they would 
121 


122 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


like to visit the Public Gardens with her maid, 
Beatrice, and enjoy themselves once more on the 
Swan Boats. 

“Mr. Thome has given his permission, boys,” 
she said blithely, “I telephoned to him.” 

“Oh, goody, goody,” was the cry. 

“Come back at four o’clock,” said Janet cheer- 
ily as they started, “and I will serve high-tea in 
my sitting-room.” 

‘ 1 Hurrah ! ’ 9 exclaimed Willie. 

“Cheers!” shouted Jimmie. 

‘ 1 How lovely ! 9 9 sang Augusta. 

“Yap, yap!” chorused friendly Curly. 

Janet’s sitting-room was very gay and pretty, 
and “high-tea” meant ice-cream and fancy cakes. 

Upon reaching the Gardens the children ran 
straight to the pond while Beatrice sat down with 
her sewing and chatted with a friend. 

The boys, remembering their friends of a pre- 
vious day, told Augusta of Lizzie and Jessie and 
Johnnie. 

“Oh, do you think we will see them to-day?” 
asked the little girl. 

“Let’s walk around and look on the benches,” 
suggested Jimmie. 

They did this, and although they met many 
other friendly children, Lizzie, Jessie and John- 
nie were nowhere to be found. 

“I’m going out and look up the street; perhaps 
I’ll see them on the sidewalk,” said Willie. 

“Do you see them?” eagerly questioned Au- 
gusta, hopping out to Willie’s side. 


THE BIRD STORE 


123 


“No. Guess they aren’t coming to-day, but I 
know where they live, so I could find them,” 
boasted Willie. 

“You don’t remember how to get there,” dared 
Jimmie. 

“Just you wait and see,” challenged Willie 
gayly. “Will you follow my lead?” 

“Yes, yes,” answered both children. 

So, holding the end of Curly’s leash in his left 
hand and Augusta’s small hand in his right, Wil- 
lie started off, Jimmie racing after him. 

4 ‘ How do you know this is the right way to go ? ” 
demanded Jimmie as they turned up a shabby, 
hilly street with hot, uneven sidewalks. 

“I’m not quite sure it is,” confessed Willie. 
‘ 1 But I ’m pretty sure, ’ ’ he added consolingly. 

Augusta climbed on uncomplainingly. She felt 
warm and tired, but the strange sights and the 
spirit of adventure encouraged her. 

Jimmie stopped short and sat down on the curb- 
stone. 

“What’s the matter?” asked Willie. 

“I think we’re lost,” remarked Jimmie. “Let’s 
turn back and try to find the Gardens instead of 
Lizzie’s house.” 

“Why, Jim Cleary,” protested Willie, “we 
must be nearly there now. I don’t want to give up 
the very first thing. I said I would find it and I 
want to try.” 

“I don’t think we are lost,” laughed Augusta 
cheerily. “When we get very tired we can just 
go right back the way we came.” 


124 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


4 4 Forward, march ! ’ ’ said Willie firmly. 

“Forward, march !” echoed Augusta bravely. 

Jimmie, although very uneasy, rose and 
tramped along beside them. 

Curly began to grow weary. They took turns 
carrying him. 

Although they made many turns and traveled 
up and down many side streets, Lizzie’s house 
seemed as far away as ever. Even Willie became 
somewhat discouraged. That they might really 
be lost did not occur to him. He thought Jimmie 
was fooling when he had mentioned such a thing. 
They were now descending into a noisy, dirty dis- 
trict. They met numberless children, some of 
whom they spoke to, and all of whom seemed 
kindly disposed to the three strangers and their 
pretty dog. They even followed them at a little 
distance. So far they had met no one who knew 
the Grants. 

At last in a narrow alley they passed some 
larger boys who were sitting on the curbing and 
seemed to be quarreling. 

“Hello, there!” one of them called out to our 
trio. “Where did you come from?” 

“The Gardens,” answered Jimmie politely 
enough, but he pulled hard on Augusta’s hand 
and looked at Willie. He did not like the appear- 
ance of these lads and wanted to urge his com- 
panions to hurry. 

“Wait just a second,” commanded the tallest, 
roughest looking youth. 4 4 Where did you get that 
dog? Hey?” He advanced toward the children 


THE BIRD STORE 


125 


frowning and put his hand on Willie’s collar by 
no means gently. 

“He’s my dog, of course,” said Willie in a sur- 
prised tone. “Let go,” he added, trying to shake 
himself free. 

“Drop that dog. Do you hear?” the strange 
boy growled. 

His companions had gathered around the chil- 
dren, and Jimmie, liking their rough looks less 
each moment, held Augusta’s hand the tighter and 
urged Willie to “pull away.” 

The poor lad tried to do so, but in vain. Quickly 
one surly youth reached out to snatch our beloved 
Curly. A wild yelp ! Curly gave the outstretched 
hand a sharp nip with his small white teeth, and 
at that moment Willie exerted all his strength and 
wrenched himself free. 

Seizing Augusta’s hand once more, holding fast 
to Curly and echoing Jimmie’s cry, “run,” they 
flew down the alley as fast as they could go. 

But their pursuers were older and could cover 
ground quicker. Capture seemed alarmingly near. 

“Turn down this street,” panted Willie. “If 
they catch me, Jim, you dodge and get away with 
Augusta. We mustn’t let them hurt her.” 

“Not if I can help it,” assented Jimmie firmly. 

“Oh, don’t let them get Curly,” exclaimed Au- 
gusta. “Run! run! run! I can go much faster, 
really I can. Hurry!” and this spirited little 
girl actually dashed forward, thus spurring her 
friends to make another effort. 

In spite of all their bravery and all their swift- 


126 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


ness, seizure seemed perilously certain. Only one 
boy was chasing them now ; the others did not dare 
to leave the alley and run the risk of being ob- 
served by the police. He was, however, the oldest 
and most disagreeable youth of the crowd. His 
arm flew out, his hand was within an inch of 
Willie’s collar, when a small, dark-eyed Jewish 
child, who was sitting on the low step of a dingy 
store, sprang to her feet. 

“Come in here. Come quick!” she called in a 
shrill young voice. She threw open the door of 
the shop and held it while Jimmie, pushing Au- 
gusta before him, darted in. Willie nimbly fol- 
lowed, Curly safe in his arms. Then the little girl 
slammed the door and bolted it. 

“He will try no more to catch you,” she said 
gayly. “Mine brother has already frightened him 
before. See, he runs! Bad, bad boy that he is.” 

Through the grimy show window where the 
wares of the little shop were displayed, this new 
friend watched their late enemy slink back into 
the alleyway. She whirled around and faced our 
young friends. 

“Thank you ever so much,” cried Willie. 

“Thank you. Thank you,” chorused Augusta 
and Jimmie. 

“This is mine brother’s store,” confided the 
little girl. “On the Sabbath it is not for business 
open all the day, but I come downstairs to feed 
the pretty polls and little birds and bunnies and 
I step outside to look up the street. I sit down 
and after a little while I see you run, the pretty 


THE BIRD STORE 


127 


little girl and the two little boys. I say to myself 
that I will help you. I did. Do you like mine 
brother’s store, yes?” 

For the three eager children, attracted by 
strange sounds, and growing accustomed to the 
darkness of the narrow room, were peering curi- 
ously about them. 

“See the birds,” exclaimed Jimmie. 

“Oh, so many!” cried Augusta. “Where did 
they all come from?” 

‘ ‘ Ho-ho-ho ! Ha-ha-ha ! There ’s a mouse under 
the counter, ’ ’ shrieked such a strange, harsh voice 
above their heads, and so unexpectedly that it was 
no wonder our friends jumped and looked inquir- 
ingly at the little dark-eyed girl. 

“Be quiet, naughty Polly,” she scolded. “ ’Tis 
that parrot on the big perch who was talking. 
See!” she explained, pointing to a large gray 
bird, who with ruffled plumage and roguish eye 
was swinging jauntily from a long, thin, round 
stick hung horizontally from the ceiling by means 
of strong twine. 

Augusta laughed merrily and Willie and Jim-* 
mie joined her. 

“This is a lovely shop,” praised Willie. There 
were birds in cages, small animals in crates and 
ever so many delightful things to see and talk 
about. 

“I like the bunnies best. They are in this win- 
dow,” said the little girl. 

“Oh, aren’t they sweet?” exclaimed Augusta, 
bending over the low wooden partition to stroke a 


128 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


small bunny’s soft, silky bead and long pink ears. 

“Will, keep Curly away, but do come and look 
at these jolly chaps,” enthused Jimmie, almost 
losing his balance and falling headlong into the 
sawdust with the attractive rabbits. 

“Look out there!” laughed Willie. “It must 
be lots of fun,” he added, addressing the little 
girl, “to have so many nice pets to play with.” 

“They are not to play with,” answered the 
child rather sadly. “Mine brother sells them all. 
Then he buys perhaps more. I love the new ones, 
too, and then again he sells. I like best to keep 
the same ones forever,” and her loving little arms 
flew out in the direction of all the tiny creatures 
in feather or fur. “My name is Ruth,” she said, 
crossing over to Augusta’s side. “Please tell me 
all your names.” 

“Augusta Pierce, and this is Willie Thorne, 
and this is Jimmie Cleary,” answered Augusta. 

‘ 4 Mine whole name it is Ruth Zabrisky. Do you 
like that?” 

“Yes,” replied Augusta politely. 

“I like your dress. It is to me so very pretty,” 
went on Ruth, gazing at the soft white frock ad- 
miringly. “I like, too, your pretty hat. Do you 
like mine dress?” 

“Yes,” answered Augusta again, “and I think 
your sash is beautiful. I wish I had one. I like 
red ever so much.” 

“Mine sash cost much money,” smiled Ruth 
happily. “Mine brother is next week to buy me 
one red hat. He will sell Jocko and then mine 


THE BIRD STORE 


129 


birthday present he will buy. I will show you 
J ocko. He is very sad, very cross ; he should be 
very funny. Wait. You will see.” Ruth van- 
ished behind a dingy chintz curtain, but quickly 
returned carrying in her arms a quiet brown ob- 
ject. 

“ It’s a monkey. Jimmie, Willie, come and see ! 
Oh, the cunning, tiny darling monkey ! ’ 9 enthused 
Augusta. 

On the narrow counter Ruth placed her peculiar 
pet. A long chain was attached to his small 
leather collar. Augusta triea eagerly to “make 
friends” with Jocko. Jimmie and Willie came 
leaping to her side. In spite of all their friendly 
overtures, in spite of Ruth’s gentle scoldings, 
Jocko refused to be coaxed into happiness. A 
more solemn, sad-faced little monkey has never 
been seen, I am sure. He paid no attention what- 
ever to any of the children after he had once rolled 
his beady black eyes in their direction. He sat 
now in a mournful heap with his eyes shut. 

Curly had meanwhile been having a glorious 
time. He had explored the shop. He had spoken 
to several cunning little puppies through the slats 
of their crate. He had terrified a small blue Per- 
sian kitten and he finally had his inquisitive nose 
nipped by a cross blackbird, who was sulking in 
an old cage in a dark corner. This last adventure 
sent him yelping to Willie for consolation. 

“Curly, look at the monkey,” cried his master 
gayly. “Do you remember our old Gyp and how 
you used to scrap with him? This poor little mon- 


130 WILLIE-FKANK OF STEDLEY 


key is quiet. Our Gyp was a terror, ’ ’ he explained 
to the rest. 

Before he could say any more a queer thing 
happened. Curly sniffed and barked. The mon- 
key opened his eyes. Curly barked again and, I 
am sorry to confess it, snapped. Not a cross little 
snap though. It seemed more like a playful, teas- 
ing one. 

Out shot one of Jocko’s brown hairy arms, and 
lo! he had boxed Curly’s white ears. Then such 
a laughable warfare began. The monkey was 
alert and bright-eyed now. Curly was wildly mis- 
chievous. It seemed as though the two little ani- 
mals were both enjoying the fray. They were 
careful not to hurt each other severely, but they 
certainly tried to be as tormenting as possible. 

Suddenly Willie knelt down on the dusty floor. 
Jocko had sprung to the ground and was pur- 
suing Curly the full length of his chain. Curly’s 
leash trailed behind him. He was bounding 
round the monkey yapping teasingly. 

4 4 Gyp — Gyp, don ’t you know me ? Gyp, Gyp ! ’ ’ 
called Willie. 

Jocko stopped in his race after the dog and 
blinked at the boy with his bright black eyes. 

Willie slapped his pocket. “ Sugar, Gyp! 
Whom will I give it to, you or Curly?” 

The monkey hesitated for a second, then, chat- 
tering, scolding, whimpering, the funny brown 
animal leaped at Willie and tried to put his tiny 
hand into the boy’s pocket. 

4 ‘Oh, it is Gyp! Curly, you knew him, didn’t 


THE BIRD STORE 


131 


you!” Willie was hugging the monkey, his face 
aglow with joy. He had discovered a dear old 
friend! Gyp had at last recognized his former 
master ! 


CHAPTER XIII 


GYP 

A LOUD rapping on the door startled the 
children. 

4 ‘Yes, they went in here, I saw them,” 
said a loud, commanding voice. ‘ ‘ I thought noth- 
ing of it until I got the call from headquarters. 
I had my eye on the boy who chased them. I 
wanted to catch him and his crowd to give them 
a lesson, but the children went in here, I am sure 
of it.” 

“Who is it? What do you want?” demanded 
Ruth through the keyhole, but she kept the key in 
her hand and did not offer to slip the bolt. 

Another voice was heard talking rapidly out- 
side. 

“It is mine brother,” confided Ruth to the rest. 
“He will fix them. Do not fear, they will not get 
you, those bad boys. ’ 9 

Jimmie, listening more intently than the rest, 
shouted : 

“Open the door, do, Ruth! I think Mr. Thorne 
has come to find us.” 

“Uncle Gerald? Why, he couldn’t walk,” cried 
Willie, still holding Gyp in his arms. “And be- 
sides he doesn’t know where we are.” 

“I guess we’ve been lost all right,” said Jim- 
• 132 


GYP 


133 


mie, “and I’m sure he has come to find us,” he 
added, as a strong hand rattled the knob of the 
door: 

“Ruth, Ruth, are you there?” a man called. 
‘ ‘ Slip the bolt, child. Let me in . 9 9 It was a gut- 
tural foreign voice, but it sounded kind. 

“ ’Tis Jacob, mine big brother,” cried Ruth 
joyfully. Slipping the key back into the hole and 
pulling aside the huge bolt beneath, she threw the 
door open. 

In the street, drawn up close to the curbing, 
was a taxicab. In the narrow doorway of the 
shop stood three men, dark-eyed Mr. Zabrisky, 
who strongly resembled his sister, a burly police- 
man and a tall brown-faced man leaning on a thick 
walking-stick. 

“Uncle Gerald!” screamed Willie. “How did 
you find us? Look at Gyp. He’s the monkey you 
sent me once.” 

“Ah! They were here after all,” said Mr. 
Thorne, nodding gratefully at the officer of the 
law. Then, “Bill, you have led us a wild chase 
to-day, my boy, but I am glad it ended success- 
fully.” He spoke very quietly, his eyes resting 
lovingly on the faces of the children. Only the 
two men knew how deeply moved the strong man 
was. He had been under a terrible strain, and as 
he entered the dingy store he stumbled, for his 
foot was very painful. 

“Sit down, sir,” Mr. Zabrisky said courteously. 

Amid the dim shadows of the bird store Willie 


134 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


told his story frankly to his Uncle, surrounded on 
all sides by friendly faces. 

“I didn’t mean to get lost,” he said finally. 
“I’m sorry, Uncle Gerald.” 

“I know you are, old chap,” Mr. Thorne said 
kindly, putting his arm around the boy. “You 
and I must learn together, Bill, not to be so rash 
and thoughtless. We often make much trouble 
for others by not looking before we leap. But, 
there, you have learned a lesson to-day that you 
will not forget, I am sure. We will not say any 
more about it. We must take little Miss Augusta 
home now and apologize for all the worry we 
have caused her dear ones. I am glad that you 
and Jimmie tried to take good care of her.” He 
smiled kindly at honest Jimmie, who flushed with 
pleasure. 

4 ‘ They were very good to me, ’ ’ commended Au- 
gusta. “I love them very much, and Ruth, too; 
she saved us, didn’t you, Ruth?” 

Uncle Gerald rose in spite of his aching knee 
and stooped to shake hands with little Ruth. She 
smiled at him shyly. 

Our small travelers were surprised to learn 
that it was long after five o’clock, that Miss Janet 
had been so frightened when Beatrice had re- 
turned after searching through the Gardens for 
her charges in vain, that she had gone in great 
distress to Mr. Thome. He had urged her to be 
as calm as possible and leave matters in his hands. 
Mr. Trent and Mr. Stanley were away. Mr. 
Thome was under the doctor’s orders not to leave 


GYP 


135 


his room, but like his small nephew he usually 
obeyed his first impulse. Tossing crutches aside, 
armed with a cane, he had sent messengers forth 
in all directions, had notified police headquarters, 
and in a taxi had started out himself, outwardly 
calm, inwardly suffering agonies of mind. 

That Uncle Gerald generally accomplished 
whatever he set out to do was soon shown. He 
had traced the children to the west end by various 
clews and very fortunately hailed the policeman 
who had finally guided him to the door of the bird 
shop. This good officer had recognized the chil- 
dren from the descriptions given him from head- 
quarters as the three whom he had seen the alley- 
boys chasing. He was on his way to search for 
them at Mr. Zabrisky’s store when Mr. Thorne 
had spoken to him from the cab window. 

I have only space left to say that the policeman 
made some very true friends that day. Uncle 
Gerald was able to do much to advance his inter- 
ests, and although the man had no thought of 
reward at the time, he soon found that Mr. Thorne 
was a person of much influence and that he never 
forgot a kindness. 

Mr. Zabrisky and Euth were very hospitable. 
They urged Mr. Thorne and the children to re- 
main and share their evening meal. As this was 
impossible, owing to the sad state of anxiety in 
which Miss Fenmore was plunged, our friends 
were obliged to hurry away. 

Uncle Gerald, however, thanked the bird store 


136 WILLIE-FKANK OF STEDLEY 


man very graciously and assured little Buth that 
the children would see her again very soon. 

But sadness fell on Willie’s heart when he 
learned that he could not take Jocko (properly 
called Gyp) away with him. 

Mr. Zabrisky explained with regret that he had 
sent for the monkey to New York for a customer; 
that he already had in his possession a deposit 
made by the same customer. Could he cancel the 
agreement he would be glad to for the little boy’s 
sake, but he feared this to be an impossibility, as 
the man was coming that same night, expecting 
the monkey to be ready for him. 

“See what you can do for us, please,” advised 
Mr. Thome. “I would like to purchase Jocko if 
your customer will accept some fitting compensa- 
tion for his disappointment. Will you take my 
address, please, and let me know later what you 
can do?” 

Kind farewells were exchanged, Mr. Thorne 
and the children were proceeding to the taxi, when 
the monkey’s anguish became a torture to Willie’s 
affectionate heart. Poor Gyp, since his separa- 
tion from his little master, must have suffered 
many hardships and much loneliness, for he ac- 
tually moaned and cried pitifully when he saw 
Willie and Curly about to depart without him. 

“Oh, Uncle Gerald,” pleaded Augusta, adopt- 
ing in her grief Willie’s name for Mr. Thorne. 
“Please, please take him with us. Don’t leave 
the poor monkey.” 

Mr. Thome pressed her hand gently. “Don’t 


GYP 


137 


fret, little one,” he said soothingly, limping back 
to the shop door. A sight met his eyes which af- 
fected him keenly. Gyp, straining on his chain, 
jabbered wildly at Willie. 

The boy, who was generally sunny, brave and 
merry, had put his arms down on the dusty coun- 
ter and with his head buried in them was sobbing 
great tearless sobs that wrung the tender heart 
of little Ruth. 

“Oh, Jacob dear, give Jocko to him, please,” 
she begged. 

“I cannot,” said Mr. Zabrisky, sadly shaking 
his head, “but I am very, very sorry.” 

Mr. Thorne drew him aside and talked with him 
very earnestly, then he said briskly : 

“Come, Billy-boy. Brace up! We really must 
go.” 

“Yes, sir,” our hero answered quietly. He 
straightened himself with an effort, but not trust- 
ing himself to look at either Gyp or Ruth he bolt- 
ed out of the shop, Curly following. When Mr. 
Thorne reached the cab, Willie was holding the 
door open for him. “I’ll be all right pretty soon, 
Uncle Gerald, ’ ’ he said, trying to smile so bravely 
that Mr. Thome longed to take him in his arms 
and comfort him, but knowing that boys must be 
treated to “sterner stuff” so they may develop 
strong and manly traits, he merely nodded at the 
child brightly and said : 

‘ ‘ That ’s right, my boy. I quite understand. ’ ’ 

Janet was returning from her long and fruit- 
less search just as the taxi drew up in front of 


138 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


the hotel. You can imagine her joy and relief of 
mind. 

“It was all my fault/ ’ confessed Willie bravely. 

“No, it wasn’t,” announced Augusta. “I 
wanted to go, you know I did, Willie.” 

“So did I,” agreed Jimmie. 

“You dear little tots,” exclaimed Janet, strug- 
gling between laughter and tears. “It is I who 
am to blame. You don’t know how I have re- 
proached myself,” she added, addressing Mr. 
Thorne, ‘ ‘ for undertaking the care and entertain- 
ment of the children only to neglect them.” 

“Nonsense,” laughed Mr. Thorne. “I could 
easily claim that the fault lies at my door, but we 
would be playing an endless game of ‘ who’s it!’ 
All’s well that ends well and we should be very 
grateful. ’ ’ 

“I am, I am,” exclaimed Janet joyously. 

Mr. Stanley, Mr. Trent and the doctor suddenly 
appeared. 

“Jerry, it was madness for you to have done 
this,” said the latter sternly. 

But again Mr. Thome laughed reproaches to 
the winds. 

“You will see me walking every day here- 
after,” he replied merrily. “I start for Stedley 
with Willie and Jimmie on Monday. ’ ’ 

“Stedley!” exclaimed Mr. Stanley in surprise. 

“Stedley!” echoed the doctor and Mr. Trent. 

“Stedley!” cried Janet sadly. 

“Oh, Mr. Thorne, are you really coming back 


GYP 


139 


to Stedley with us?” shouted Jimmie, his bright 
eyes sparkling with pleasure. 

“Yes, Jim, I hope so,” answered Uncle Gerald 
kindly. 

Jimmie was capering around the room in a very 
lively fashion. He felt so happy that he could not 
keep his feet still. 

“Urn so glad Mr. Thorne is coming with us,” 
he explained tc Willie, “and I’m so glad to be 
going home, too.” 

“Don’t you like Boston, Jimmie?” asked Willie 
in a surprised tone. 

“Yes, you bet I do,” laughed Jimmie, “but I 
love Stedley.” 

“I think you, too, will grow fond of Stedley in 
time, Will,” Uncle Gerald assured Willie. 

“I guess I will, all right,” the boy agreed 
pleasantly, but strange to say the little lad was 
very quiet and serious. He did not complain, in 
fact he made a big effort to be cheerful, but the 
fate of Gyp hung over him like a cloud. Mr. 
Thome loved the child all the more for his stern 
self-control, but neither of them mentioned Gyp 
again that night. 

Monday morning Mr. Jake, with the brown au- 
tomobile, reported for duty and drove Mr. Thorne, 
Miss Fenmore, Augusta, Jimmie and Willie- 
Frank downtown to one of the big stores, where 
the children were each to select a gift for Ruth 
Zabrisky. 

Augusta’s choice was a beautiful doll. A dolb 
carriage lined with soft pink, rolling on rubber 


140 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


tires was Willie’s selection. Jimmie decided on 
a doll’s piano, as Dolly Lambert liked hers the 
best of all her playthings. 

“Who is Dolly?” asked Augusta. 

“A little girl who goes to my school. She lives 
in Stedley. I play with her,” announced Jimmie 
all in one breath. 

“Her papa is the aviator that we told you 
about, whose airship fell on the island, and who 
was hurt by the tree,” explained Willie. 

By this time they were in the car again and 
their purchases with them. Mr. Thorne and Jake 
talked a great deal about the doll carriage taking 
up so much room, but when they saw the anxiety 
on Augusta’s face they hastened to say that they 
were only joking. 

And now where do you suppose they went? 
Straight to Ruth’s door, where they delivered the 
gifts themselves to that delighted little maiden. 
Willie did not want to enter the shop. He 
handed the doll carriage to Ruth, who ran out 
to the side of the car, and smiled at her affection- 
ately, but he made no attempt to follow Janet, 
Augusta and Jimmie when they alighted and went 
inside. 

“Oh, by the way, Will,” Mr. Thorne said in an 
off-hand sort of a way, ‘ 4 run in and see Gyp. Mr. 
Zabrisky telephoned to me this morning that the 
monkey is going to have a very nice home and 
kind owner. He will not be lonesome much long- 
er. I knew you would be pleased to hear such 
good news.” 


GYP 


141 


The man, watching the boy’s face, intently saw 
it brightened noticeably for the first time since 
Saturday evening. Willie gave a tiny sigh of 
relief. 

“I’m glad the man will be kind to him,” he said 
sincerely, “but I don’t want to say good-by to 
Gyp, Uncle Gerald. I’m afraid I’d cry again, and 
poor Gyp would cry too.” 

“Oh, nonsense,” laughed Mr. Thome. “You 
are rather too brave for that! Run along! Go 
say a kind word to the monkey.” 

When Willie entered the bird store Ruth’s 
brother smiled broadly at him. “Here’s Jocko, 
sir,” he said, leading our hero to a crate stand- 
ing ready for shipment. It was large enough to 
afford the animal plenty of room. 

Through the bars of the cage the monkey saw 
Willie, and recognizing him, gave a shrill cry, 
thrusting one wiry arm out in welcome. 

Willie threw his arms around the crate. 
“Good-by, Gypie,” he said softly, but his tone 
was pitiful. 

“Look at the tag. Read what mine brother 
wrote upon it,” chanted Ruth, dancing up and 
down. 

Mr. Zabrisky pointed to the piece of white card- 
board tacked neatly on the top of the crate. Wil- 
lie read wonderingly: 

Master William F. Thome, 

Thome House, 

Stedley, Mass. 


142 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


Without looking at any one, Willie rose, 
bounced out the door, into the auto and threw 
his arms around his Uncle’s neck. “Oh, thank 
you, thank you, ’ ’ he sobbed, and really there were 
tears in every one’s eyes. They all knew then 
how keen poor Willie’s sorrow over the loss of 
his pet had been, although he had borne it so 
silently. 

Uncle Gerald put his arms tenderly around the 
child and kissed him, but the next moment called 
out: 

“Well, we must be off.” 

While the rest of the party exchanged merry 
farewells with Ruth, Mr. Thorne handed Mr. 
Zabrisky a check. He also thanked him for his 
kindness and urged him to get Gyp safely started 
for Thorne House at once. 

Mr. Zabrisky had really gone to a great deal of 
trouble to induce the man for whom he had bought 
Gyp, to relinquish his claim and wait a few days 
until the bird store man could order another pet 
for him. 

“I have already ’phoned home to Jean and 
asked him to undertake the care of Gyp for you 
until we arrive this evening, Will,” Mr. Thorne 
explained to his nephew. “Mr. Zabrisky has a 
friend going through Stedley on the ten o’clock 
train. He will leave Gyp with old Matthew, the 
station agent. We could not comfortably carry 
him along in the machine, as Mr. Trent will be 
with us, and Curly is too much for us as it is.” 


GYP 143 

* 1 Rosalie will take care of him, too,” laughed 
Willie. He was his own merry self again. 

Well, after that they went spinning out to see 
Franklin Park and the Zoo proved delightful to- 
the children. 

At noontime, Augusta bade the boys good-by. 
She was going home to Beverly. “You are com- 
ing to visit me in August,” she announced joy- 
ously. “My Daddy told me so. He went to col- 
lege with your Uncle Gerald. They are great 
friends. You will be at my house for my birth- 
day party, August 27th. We can play on the 
beach and swim and have lovely times. Good- 
by.” 

“Good-by,” called out both boys, waving their 
caps wildly as her train puffed out of the North 
Station. 

Miss Janet and Augusta shook their hands to 
them from the window of the car. Then Mr. 
Thorne, Mr. Stanley, Mr. Trent and the boys re- 
turned to the hotel, took lunch, after which they 
started forth for Stedley. Every one they had 
met there bade them a very affectionate good- 
by. No one could help liking Mr. Thome. The 
two little boys had also made many friends, and 
Curly was as great a pet there as he proved to 
be everywhere he went. 

Mr. Stanley and Mr. Trent left our party at 
a small town before they reached Stedley to visit, 
for a few days, some old friends. 

Oh, such a happy entrance as the brown auto- 
mobile made into Stedley the second time it ar- 


144 WILLIE-FKANK OF STEDLEY 


rived there! It stopped first in front of Dr. 
Cleary’s house. When Mrs. Cleary appeared in 
the doorway, what a shout Jimmie gave! He 
didn’t wait for the tonneau door to open, but 
leaped over it and straight into her loving arms. 

Mr. Thorne and Willie visited with the Cleary 
family for a few joyful moments. Uncle Gerald 
was greatly beloved by these dear friends, and 
it was years since they had seen him. Then Jim- 
mie excused himself and hurried down the street 
to be in attendance at Father Owen’s instruction 
class. 

Just at sunset Jake steered the automobile up 
the broad driveway of Thome House, and Wil- 
lie-Frank, cuddling up close to his Uncle, said 
softly: 

“I’m ever so happy! Last time I came I was 
all alone and I was afraid you’d be cross like 
the giants in fairy-tale books. You’re not one 
bit. My, but I love you, Uncle Gerald!” 

“Same to you, Will,” laughed the big man. 
“Welcome home to Thorne House.” 

They had arrived in front of the stone lions. 


CHAPTER XIV 
WELCOME HOME 


S UCH a joyful welcome as Mr. Thorne re- 
ceived ! 

Baxter came running to help him out of 
the machine before Jake had a chance to do so, 
a smiling, bowing, talkative Baxter, quite unlike 
the grave butler of Willie’s first evening at 
Thorne House! He beamed at Willie also. 

“Baxter, did Gyp get here ? ’ ’ asked the boy. 
“My monkey, I mean?” 

“Yes, sir. Jean has him safe and sound for 
you. ’ 9 

Mrs. Pepper, in rustling black silk, was at the 
door, her face radiant with happiness. 

“Good evening, Baxter. You look quite natu- 
ral. Glad to see you,” Uncle Gerald said genial- 
ly, giving the man’s hand a warm grip. He val- 
ued highly these fine old servants who had re- 
mained so true to his family and their interests 
for so many years. “Well, Mrs. Pepper, here 
we are!” he called out cheerfully, mounting the 
steps slowly and smiling meanwhile at the house- 
keeper. 

His cane was in his right hand but his left arm 
was around Willie’s shoulders. He wanted the 
little lad to enter the doors of Thorne House at 
145 


146 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


his side and to enter also amid such cordial greet- 
ings that he might indeed feel that this was 
home, a place full to overflowing with love and 
happiness. 

“Ah, Master Gerald, your poor foot is no bet- 
ter,’ ’ wailed Mrs. Pepper, suddenly growing 
mournful as she watched his halting steps. 

“Never mind my poor foot; a few days’ rest 
in my old den and I’ll surprise you by striding 
around this place finding fault, scolding and rais- 
ing ructions generally,” he laughed teasingly. 

Mrs. Pepper threw up her hands. “Hear 
him ! ’ ’ she ejaculated in remonstrance. ‘ 6 He that 
never was known to say a cross word in his life ! 
Indeed, it’s more likely, Master Jerry, dear, that 
you’ll go about laughing and praising and spoil- 
ing the help. Good evening, Master William. 
I’m glad to see you home again.” 

“Good evening,” answered Willie, pleasantly. 

“Some boy, isn’t he, Mrs. Pep?” Uncle Ger- 
ald said, rumpling his nephew’s bright hair and 
then dropping his hand to the lad’s shoulder 
again. To Willie’s surprise the housekeeper 
praised him in the most glowing terms. 

“It’s exactly like Master Don he seems,” she 
enthused, adding: 

‘ ‘ Come in, come in, sir, you must be tired stand- 
ing here so long.” 

But to Willie’s amazement his big Uncle sud- 
denly dropped his cane with a bang, gave a boy- 
ish shout and hopped with something of Willie’s 
own agility into the dim shadows of Thorne 


WELCOME HOME 


147 


House hall. He was shaking hands tenderly with 
a very old colored woman. He was laughing 
down at her affectionately. 

“Mammy Dorcas, you dear old soul! It was 
uncommonly good of you to come out here to 
greet me,” he was saying eagerly. Then he 
turned back to our hero. 4 'Come, Will, and meet 
Mammy Dorcas. One of the best friends your 
Daddy and myself ever had.” 

“Massa Jerry, honey, don’t you go for to talk 
so foolish. ’Tain’t no friend I am, only a po’ ole 
darkey what lubs the very ground you walks 
on. ’ 7 And the loyal old creature gazed up at the 
tall man with a world of true love in her dim 
eyes. 

Willie ran forward crying excitedly: 

“Oh, are you Mammy Dorcas? My, but I’m 
glad to see you. Thank you for those gingerbread 
boys. They were great. Johnnie said they were 
the goodest cakes he ever tasted. We ate them 
at the Swan Boat’s Landing in Boston.” 

Nothing could have pleased the devoted heart 
of Mammy Dorcas more than this friendly grati- 
tude on the part of “little master.” He was told 
to come to the kitchen “any time ob day” he 
wished and that he could have all the cakes he 
wanted. She even promised to let him make some 
gingerbread men of his own. 

“And molasses candy, too?” questioned Willie 
eagerly. 

“Now, now, this is too much,” laughed Uncle 
Gerald. “Mammy Dorcas, you must not spoil 


148 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


that child, remember,’ ’ and he shook his finger at 
her roguishly. 

“ Spoil him, Massa Jerry, when there ain’t no 
spoilin’ to any ob the Thornes. They’s gen’le- 
men through and through; they was and always 
will be. Big hearts, libely dispo ’shuns and gentle 
manners. I knows ’em all. I’se libed with the 
Thornes since I was just about so high as you is, 
little Massa Willie. I played many a time when 
I was a pickaninny with yore Grandpa, the ole 
Massa. My fambly came up North wif yore fo’ks 
years and years ago.” 

Willie could have listened to this quaint old 
woman’s conversation for hours, but Mammy 
Dorcas suddenly remembered that Mr. Thorne 
was not quite so rugged as usual and that he had 
traveled a great distance. She went toddling off 
to see that the “po’ white trash out in the kitchen 
is serbing you uns fit stuff to eat, ’ ’ she explained 
hastily. 

Soon Uncle Gerald and Willie were seated in 
the big dining-room. The last red glow of sunset 
was reflected in the long old-fashioned mirror over 
the fireplace. The room looked very homelike 
and cheery. 

All the next day Willie was busy renewing his 
happy friendship with kind Jean and Rosalie, 
playing with Gyp and petting Twinkle, who had 
missed his young master and Curly exceedingly. 
Just before tea time Jimmie ran over to ask 


WELCOME HOME 


149 


Mm to come down town and watch Ted Bemis 
drill some of the other hoys as soldiers. 

When the two chums, with Twinkle and Curly 
at their heels, went running across Stedley Com- 
mon, Willie cried out excitedly: 

“Hi, Ted!” 

Ted whirled around and seeing the small boy 
skipping across the green sward with his two pets 
in attendance, looked puzzled first, but at last 
smiled broadly: 

“Hello!” he exclaimed. “It’s Curly, but he’s 
had his hair cut. ’ ’ 

“It’s Willie-Frank,” shouted Bob Evans, drop- 
ping his broom-stick and forsaking his place in 
the foremost line to dash towards Willie, his 
freckled face aglow with friendship. 

“I’m back,” proclaimed Willie mirthfully. 

“I see you are,” said Ted. “Did you have a 
good time?” 

“Splendid,” declared Willie fervently. 

“Thanks for that post-card you sent me,” said 
Bob Evans. 

“Did you like it?” asked Willie joyfully. 

“Yes. Guess I did! Jack said it was clever 
to send me the picture of the Aquarium after our 
fun that day fishing.” 

“I liked the Stadium. That was the one you 
sent me. I want to play football when I get heavy 
enough,” spoke up Ted. 

“He sent me an Indian’s picture. It was 
great,” chimed in Ray Lester. 


150 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


“Hi!” exclaimed Willie, recognizing him and 
shaking hands. 

All the lads came surging around him and his 
two dogs. Curly and Twinkle were very friendly 
and even consented to do a few of their tricks. 

“Aren’t you going to drill any more?” Willie 
asked at last in a disappointed tone. 

“Yes — get into line. You, too, Jimmie! You 
must have guns before our next drill, though.” 

“I have an air rifle. Will that do?” questioned 
Jimmie anxiously. 

“Sure,” consented Ted. 

“I have one too,” exclaimed Willie, and as Ted 
gave the first word of stern command they slipped 
into their places. 

They marched — they turned — they ran. They 
presented arms — they gave salute — they charged 
— all at the direction of Captain Ted. 

As the boy finally ordered them to disperse 
cheers filled the air. 

“That was almost perfect to-night,” said a lit- 
tle girl running forward. She had long black curls 
and a laughing gypsy face. 

“Oh, Ted, why can’t I be in it too? I know I 
could march better than Bobbie Evans.” 

“No, Dolly, course girls can’t be in the drill. 
Quit teasing,” protested Ted grimly. 

“But women are fighting with the soldiers over 
in Europe,” clamored Dolly. “Papa told me 
about them yesterday.” 

“Let Dolly drill if she wants to, will you, Ted?” 


WELCOME HOME 151 

pleaded Jimmie, who always proved a loyal cham- 
pion. 

“Dolly’s much smarter than you are, Ted 
Bemis, and she can run faster than any of those 
boys in your company and she walks straighter, 
so there,” cried one of the other girls who had 
watched the drill at Dolly’s side. 

“We don’t want girls in our company,” grum- 
bled Dick Smith. “Girls aren’t brave anyhow.” 

“Yes, they are, too. Augusta is very, very 
brave. Isn’t she, Jim?” unexpectedly spoke up 
a new friend. 

Dolly turned her bright eyes full upon the ani- 
mated face of Willie Thorne. 

“Who is Augusta?” she asked sweetly. She 
was sometimes called a tomboy, but she was never 
rough or boisterous. She was what older girls 
would term athletic. She could excel any boy of 
her own age in the village in most outdoor sports, 
but she was nevertheless a girlish little girl with 
a gentle voice and pretty manners. 

“Who is Augusta?” she repeated greatly inter- 
ested. 

“She is the little girl who got lost when we 
did, ’ ’ explained Willie ; ‘‘ ‘ she never cried a speck 
but ran hard to save Curly.” 

“I like her,” declared impetuous Dolly. 

“She was all right,” Bob Evans asserted. 

“Ruth was brave, too,” said Jimmie. 

Of course a general cry went up demanding the 
story of Ruth, which Jimmie told with glowing 
cheeks and lively gestures. Willie listened as at- 


152 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


tentively as any of the rest. He sat on the grass 
with his arms around Curly and Twinkle. The 
terrier gave tiny whimpers of joy every few mo- 
ments, striving to lick his master’s face and 
hands. Willie’s occasional whisper of “Dear old 
Twink” seemed to give the dog great pleasure. 

“Cheers for Ruth,” yelled Ted, when Jimmie 
reached the dramatic portion of his narrative 
which described the little Jewish girl in the act 
of banging the door of the shop in the face of the 
alley boy. 

“She certainly was great,” cried Ray Lester. 
“What happened next, Jim?” 

Much excitement prevailed during the remain- 
der of the story, but when Gyp was mentioned, 
there was a great war-whoop. 

“A monkey?” screamed Ted. 

“Yes. He’s Will’s. He’s up at Thorne House 
now,” answered Jimmie. 

“Honest Injun?” queried Bob Evans. 

“May we see him?” begged Dolly eagerly. 

“Oh — I’d be afraid,” giggled another little 
girl. 

“How silly!” laughed Dolly. “Afraid of a 
dear little monkey. ’ ’ 

“Will you bring him down here some day for 
us to see?” asked Ted, throwing himself down at 
Willie’s side and tweaking Curly’s ear playfully. 
Curly seemed to like Ted, so he merely rolled 
over and good-naturedly yapped once or twice. 

“Come up now and I’ll show him to you,” in- 
vited Willie, jumping to his feet. He was racing 


WELCOME HOME 


153 


away expecting them to follow him when Dick 
Smith hailed him : 

“Do you mean for us to go up to Thorne 
Houser ’ 

“Yes,” smiled Willie in his friendly way. 

“Nothing doing,” announced Ted decidedly. 
“Why, they ’d turn us out so quickly if we went up 
there that we wouldn’t know what happened to 
us.” 

“Come with me and try,” said Willie cheerily. 
“You don’t know Uncle Gerald or you wouldn’t 
be afraid. Come, Dolly.” He seized her hand 
and thus led the long line of children that soon 
swarmed up to the side veranda of Thorne House. 

“What is the matter, Baxter?” asked Mr. 
Thorne pleasantly from behind his paper. He 
lay full length on the deep couch in his smoking- 
room. 

“It’s a mob of village children, sir, all armed 
with sticks and stones. Mercy, sir! They are 
chasing the little master and little Miss Dolly.” 

“Nonsense, Baxter, don’t get excited,” remon- 
strated Uncle Gerald, reaching for his cane and 
swinging himself as rapidly as possible to the 
French window facing the oval around which the 
boys and girls were surging at Willie’s bidding. 

“Why, Baxter, those sticks are supposed to be 
.guns, man ! I fancy Willie has led the crowd back 
with him to get a glimpse of Gyp. You will find 
out for me if we have fruit or cake enough in our 
larder for the youngsters?” 

“Uncle Gerald,” called out Willie in his ani- 


154 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


mated way, perceiving his best friend standing at 
the window. 4 4 Please may I show Gyp to my 
friends ?” 

‘ ‘ Come, Gyp, you rogue, out with you,” com- 
manded Mr. Thorne, who was experiencing much 
amusement from this new adventure. He pushed 
the screen aside and out leaped the monkey. 

How the children laughed and clapped and 
cheered as the frolicsome brown midget climbed 
nimbly up the rose trellis and sat amid the early 
blossoms, scolding at the crowd mischievously. 
Seeing Willie, however, Gyp came leaping down 
again. With a sly pinch for Curly and a saucy 
cuff for Twinkle as he passed them by, he bounded 
up to his beloved master’s shoulder, and proceeded 
to show his affection by all sorts of comical 
caresses. 

When Mr. Thorne could make himself heard 
amid the uproar which resulted from Gyp’s funny 
antics, he stepped out to the edge of the porch 
and addressed the little folks gayly. He had a 
kind word for every child, and knowing many of 
their relatives, sent friendly messages to a father, 
mother or brother, as the case might be. He 
smiled with special indulgence upon merry Dolly 
Lambert. Taking her small hand in his large 
brown one he said gently : 

“So this is Tom Lambert’s little daughter! I 
am pleased to meet you, my dear. To-morrow I 
hope to ride over to the hospital to visit your 
Papa. I am sure Mrs. MacDonald will get you 
ready to accompany me.” Dolly lived with kind 


WELCOME HOME 155 

Mrs. MacDonald, the wife of the gardener of 
Thorne House. 

Dolly ’s dark eyes were raised to his face grate- 
fully. “Oh, Papa will he so glad and I’d love to 
go. Thank you very much for letting Mr. Jake 
drive us over every day since Papa was hurt. ’ ’ 

“Tut-tut,” laughed Mr. Thorne. “Thank Will 
for that, the brown automobile is his. He is the 
guilty party.” 

“He’s joking, Dolly,” exclaimed Willie. “Of 
course, he was the one who told Mr. Jake to call 
for you and take you to Kanton, but he doesn’t 
want to be thanked. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Papa said you were the best man in the world. 
Mrs. MacDonald thinks so too. I know you are,” 
declared Dolly fervently. 

“So do I,” screamed Willie, hugging his 
Uncle’s knee, not the sore one fortunately. 

“So do I,” shouted Jimmie, prancing after Wil- 
lie to seize Mr. Thome ’s arm. 

Baxter and Eugene appeared at this moment 
laden with goodies. A horrified Mrs. Pepper fol- 
lowed them, hoping to remonstrate with 4 ‘ Master 
Gerald,” but in vain. 

The big brown-faced man who had made many 
scientific discoveries, and who had written several 
valuable books concerning the minerals hidden 
away by old Mother Earth in the pockets of her 
mountains, was sitting now on the top step of the 
veranda, distributing refreshments to the happy, 
eager children who pressed around him raptu- 
rously. 


156 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


“Is this Ted Bemis?” he asked quietly, stoop- 
ing over to lay his hand on a boy’s rough head — 
a boy who in shabby, ill-fitting clothes sat alone 
on a corner of the broad stoop, looking shy and 
uncomfortable. 

“Yes,” Ted replied gruffly. 

“Ah, have a cake, Ted, do!” Mr. Thorne urged 
in his most winning tones. 


CHAPTER XV 


FATHER OWEN’S INSTRUCTION CLASS 

Y OU live with Fanner Frost, I believe?” 

“Not going to after this week,” mum- 
bled Ted, accepting a frosted cookie with 
an embarrassed smile. 

“Oh!” exclaimed Mr. Thorne. 

“Lawyer Bartlett and old man Frost have fixed 
up some silly papers that hand me over to some 
other guy,” confessed Ted, with a tiny choke in 
his rough young voice. He had been knocked 
about so much in his short life that he felt very 
sad and lonely. 

“Frost was cranky enough, goodness knows,” 
he confided to this new friend, led on to do so by 
something very tender and sympathetic in Uncle 
Gerald’s bright eyes; “but I was just getting 
used to him and he did let me go to school sort of 
regular. I don’t know who the new chap is that 
I’m going to live with now. Lawyer Bartlett 
asked me bushels of questions about my Pa and 
Ma. I don’t remember Pa, but I told him my Ma 
was the best ever. She was,” he finished up 
fiercely with a look at Mr. Thome that seemed to 
say that Ted would deal harshly with any one 
who disputed that statement. 

157 


158 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


“I knew your father well, Ted,” Willie’s Uncle 
said kindly. Mr. Thorne and the boy were alone 
on the steps now. The children were busy watch- 
ing Gyp’s funny attempts at stealing Curly’s cake 
and the small dog’s methods of fooling the 
naughty monkey. 

“You did, sir?” asked Ted eagerly, bounding 
to his feet. 

“Yes, my boy. You were a baby when I met 
Mr. Bemis and your brave mother out in a small 
Western town. Your father was a very quiet, 
literary man, Ted, who because of ill-health could 
not do all he wished for his dear wife and be- 
loved little son. We met accidentally and became 
fast friends. I asked him to come to Stedley and 
he did. He edited the town newspaper here for 
two years and then died. Unfortunately, I did 
not hear of his death. I thought he was getting 
along here nicely. Since my return, I learned to 
my deep regret that after his death your mother 
moved to Boston and was reduced to poverty. 
After her death you were taken by several differ- 
ent families, and finally claimed by Farmer Frost 
of this town, who was eager to adopt a bright, 
strong boy.” 

“Yes,” assented Ted. “My, but I’m glad you 
told me all that about Pa and Ma, sir. ’ ’ 

“Do you like to go to school, Ted?” 

“School? You bet!” laughed Ted ruefully. 
“I want to learn a lot of stuff so I can be a doctor 
some day like Jim’s father. I like Doc Cleary, 
he’s the best man in this town. Wish I knew who 


FATHER OWEN’S CLASS 159 

had adopted me though,” he added with a little 
sigh and a droop of his shoulders. 

“Ted!” Mr. Thorne reached forward and laid 
his hand on the boy’s head very gently. “Ted, 
would you like to live here with Will and myself 
at Thome House!” 

“Here!” Ted leaped to his feet and gazed 
around wildly. “Why — why — I couldn’t.” 

“Why not!” smiled Uncle Gerald. 

“Because — it’s — so — so fine and — grand and — 
all, sir,” poor Ted gasped out jerkily. 

“Would you like to, is the question I asked, 
Ted!” 

“Like to! Say, Mr. Thorne, please don’t jolly 
me to-night. I’m sort of sore and shaky over 
this Lawyer Bartlett stuff.” 

“I am not fooling, Ted. I am the man for 
whom Lawyer Bartlett secured those papers. 
You are my boy now and I hope forever. You 
are to come home to Thorne House some time to- 
morrow. ’ ’ 

Ted dropped down on the gravel walk with a 
thud and stared at the big man in dumb bewilder- 
ment. Then he sprang to his feet, waved his arms 
and shouted: 

“Honest! Honest and true!” 

“Certainly,” laughed Mr. Thorne. “Perhaps 
you forget about plunging into Stedley Lake one 
night not long ago, thinking Willie could not 
swim. Well, I heard of it, Master Ted, and I am 
not likely to forget a deed as brave as that, young 
man. We want to show you at Thome House 


160 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


that we value the stuff that heroes are made of, 
even though the hero is only ten years old. Good- 
night, Teddie, pleasant dreams. Remember you 
are to move all your possessions into Thorne 
House to-morrow,” and laughing merrily, Uncle 
Gerald nodded at the stupefied boy and hobbled 
away. 

Five minutes later, a very sober Ted advanced 
to watch Gyp and Curly. Something wet trickled 
down the boy’s cheek; he dashed it away with his 
hand. “It is time to say good-night, oh all you 
little folks,” called gentle Rosalie from the door- 
way. Laughing merrily, the children trooped off 
after fondling Gyp, Curly and Twinkle. 

The next day saw Ted installed as a permanent 
member of Thorne House. 

Saturday afternoon, Ted and Willie-Frank, 
each with hair smoothly brushed and faces shin- 
ing, tore at a reckless pace down the driveway of 
Thome House. 

Near the entrance gate stood a pretty stucco 
cottage with a red tiled roof, and under the morn- 
ing-glory vines on the porch sat a dear old-fash- 
ioned grandmothery sort of a person. Good Mrs. 
MacDonald, the gardener’s wife, was beloved by 
all children for miles around, and Willie’s heart 
warmed to her instantly. She threw down the 
sweater which she was industriously knitting and 
drew the little boy to her knee. She pushed back 
his hair from his forehead gently and looked at 
him long and closely and then how fondly she em- 
braced him. 


FATHER OWEN’S CLASS 


161 


“ ’Tis like both my boys ye are,” she an- 
nounced proudly. “Ye have Don’s face and hair 
and eyes, but ye have Gerald’s smile. God bless 
ye. ’Tis of a fine family ye come, my little lad- 
die. ’ ’ 

A flutter of wings and a jubilant cry from 
Dolly’s lips caused Mrs. MacDonald and the boys 
to turn their heads in her direction. On the small 
grass plot to the right of the Lodge stood dainty 
Dolly, fresh and sweet in a simple white dress and 
white shade hat. Both her hands were extended 
as she gave her happy cry of welcome. 

Swift and true in its flight sped a carrier- 
pigeon, and gracefully flew down from mid-air to 
nestle on Dolly’s shoulder. It was a pretty, 
pretty sight. Ted and Willie approached their 
little comrade softly across the velvety grass, but 
Dolly raised one pink finger warningly, and 
caressing the bird’s smooth plumage with her 
other hand, ran lightly but swiftly to old Mrs. 
MacDonald’s side. 

“It’s a message from father,” explained Dolly. 
“Some one takes my pigeon to him nearly every 
day. Eben Hollister took it up to Kanton early 
this morning. Then Papa writes me a message, 
the nurse opens his window at the hospital and 
he sets Fleet Wing off on his journey back to 
me. 

“Oh, see what’s written,” she continued, hold- 
ing forth the thin small piece of paper which Mrs. 
MacDonald had taken carefully from the quilhlike 


162 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


sheath in which it had come, attached by a silken 
thread beneath Fleet Wing’s wing. 

“Dear little Brighteyes : I am growing strong- 
er with lightning speed now. My love to you, 
dear, and God bless you — Papa.” 

Well, Willie-Frank was so happy over this ad- 
venture, and so in love with Fleet Wing, that 
steady Ted had to remind Willie and Dolly that 
they must hurry if they expected to be at the 
church in time to greet Father Owen. Then both 
children tore themselves away from Dolly’s pretty 
pigeon, which after its flight from Kanton was 
well content to fly into the neat dovecote which 
old Giles had erected for her pet at the rear of 
the house. It was Giles who had trained the 
pigeon and presented him to Dolly on her last 
birthday. Willie could talk of nothing but Fleet 
Wing all the way down the street. 

On the steps of the old frame building they 
found other eager members of the First Com- 
munion Class, and Willie was introduced by Dolly 
very gracefully. 

“Father Owen invited him to come to instruc- 
tion with us,” said Dolly sweetly. “He will be 
in next year’s class. He has come to live at 
Thome House, forever. Haven’t you, Willie? 
And oh, I am so glad,” she hurried on to say in 
her bright, friendly way without stopping for 
Willie to answer. However, he smiled at all his 
new friends cheerfully and nodded his bright 
head. 

“Here he is ! Here he is !” the youthful voices 


FATHER OWEN’S CLASS 


163 


chorused soon in glad delight. Up the street came 
the young boyish figure of the priest. Eager little 
feet bore the children swiftly to his side. Circling 
around him they greeted him joyfully. Each one 
had something to tell this dearest and best of 
friends. Some little happiness or disappoint- 
ment or even of some little act of self-denial prac- 
tised in honor of the Great Day so soon to enfold 
them in its all blessed joy. 

One moment Ted had alone with the priest as 
he stood holding the door open for Father Owen 
as he marshaled his little force in order to their 
places within this poor but holy spot. 

“Father,” the lad said eagerly, “our Lord has 
been ever so good to me. I don’t feel worthy 
somehow to have Him come to me in Holy Com- 
munion. I’m not fit and He’s done so much for 
me already.” Then stumblingly and swallowing 
an occasional lump in his throat Ted told of the 
home and happiness which had come to him so 
unexpectedly. 

“Ted, my boy, do you remember how discour- 
aged you used to get and how hard it was for you 
to persevere, at first? And do you remember that 
you did persevere, and that you came to every in- 
struction, no matter what obstacle was put in your 
way, no matter what work was piling up for you 
to do afterwards? You were generous, Ted, to 
God, generous in trying to be good and brave and 
true under very hard circumstances, and remem- 
ber, my dear boy, that God is never outdone in 
generosity. He has given you a home and dear 


164 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


friends, but He is about to give you more than 
that — far, far more, as you realize. Accept His 
divine and royal gift, Ted, but accept it with the 
purest, noblest heart that you can prepare for 
the coming of such a King.” 

“I will, Father. Oh, indeed, I’ll try to,” prom- 
ised Ted with such determination expressed in 
his honest eyes that it made his boyish face beau- 
tiful. 

To-day, Father Owen did not tell the children, 
as he had during other instructions, of the little 
saints of God who in ages of persecution had 
glorified their King by deeds of Christian bravery 
and innocent loyalty. No, to-day he dwelt very 
simply and very sweetly upon the attributes of 
that Great Guest who was soon to knock for ad- 
mittance at the door of each child’s heart. 

He told them again the ever beautiful old story 
of a little Child born amid poverty and cold one 
winter night in a lonely cave in Bethlehem. Of 
a Boy who walked amid the byways of Nazareth 
in the simple tunic of the poor, His father’s car- 
penter box upon His shoulder or His Mother’s 
pitcher in His hand to fill at the village foun- 
tain. A Boy gentle and compassionate to young 
and old. Of a Young Man in all the regal glory 
of His manhood, not seeking high places among 
the princes of the world, not seeking fame, or for- 
tune or pleasure, but renouncing all that human 
hearts hold dear, to go forth on His divine mis- 
sion of preaching to the poor, the sinner and the 
suffering. 


FATHER OWEN’S CLASS 


165 


He reminded them that even amid the stress 
of that public life of Christ, tired and weary as 
He was, one evening after traveling and teaching 
all day long, the little children of Galilee had run 
to Him, reaching out their arms for His caress. 

“Ran to Him, my little boys and girls,” said 
Father Owen, “even as you are soon to run, beg- 
ging for His blessing and His caress. Did He re- 
fuse the children of Judea! Ah, no. Hear those 
gentle loving words of His, which have echoed 
down through hundreds of years to fall anew on 
your ears to-day: 

“ ‘Suffer little children to come unto Me and 
forbid them not, for of such is the Kingdom of 
Heaven. ’ 

“A great and holy Pope, whose death so sad- 
dened the Christian world a few years ago, is 
called the Pope of the children, because his great 
heart conceived the beautiful idea of allowing the 
children to receive our dear Lord in Holy Com- 
munion at a very early age. He, too, like his Di- 
vine Master, said, ‘ Forbid them not,’ and there- 
fore, my little flock, you must pray most fervently 
for Pius X on the day of your Great Happiness 
and beg his intercession with the Good God that 
you may live ever so pure and holy as to be among 
those who sing the praises of the Lamb of God, 
forever, before the Great White Throne above. 
And pray for those near and dear to you, your 
kind fathers who toil so hard all day that your 
life path may be made easy for little feet. 

“Pray for your sisters and brothers, friends 


166 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


and playmates. Bring them all in fancy to our 
Lord’s wounded feet when He sits enthroned 
within your spotless heart, and ask Him to bless 
each one of them lavishly. 

“And for your mothers! Ah, my little ones, 
pray the sweetest prayers that heart can frame 
and lips can whisper for your mothers. Hear, lov- 
ing, patient mothers who have loved you so un- 
selfishly from the moment of your birth. And 
pray to Christ’s dear Mother on that golden day 
and sing to Her, our best of mothers, a hymn of 
grateful praise, because it was she who gave us 
all Her dearly beloved Son to suffer and die to 
redeem us. 

“Remember that Her own tender heart was 
cruelly torn with grief to see Him, shamed and 
bruised and wounded and dead! Comfort Her 
with your love and promise Her that you will al- 
ways hold Her dear Son dearer than any one else 
on earth, until you meet Them both in Heaven.” 

But there, I could never tell you exactly what 
Father Owen said. His was a beautiful soul, filled 
with thoughts so sweet and sublime, that they fell 
from his lips like music of golden bells from Para- 
dise. 

He finally urged the children to prepare their 
hearts each day like beautiful little garden plots, 
wherein to set up a golden throne of love for their 
King. “Fill your garden beds, during these days 
of preparation, with the roses of love of God and 
love for one another. Do loving deeds, be gen- 
erous, for God loves generous hearts. Cultivate 


FATHER OWEN’S CLASS 


167 


the spotless lilies of purity that they may strew 
the pathway upon which He enters your soul. 
They will remind Him of His Mother, lily-fair 
and spotless white. And there must be pansies. 
These will be thoughts of Him often during each 
day, little ejaculations bidding Him welcome, 
urging Him to come and dwell forever in your 
heart’s garden spot. And the violets of humility, 
as you whisper, over and over, ‘ 0 Lord, I am not 
worthy. ’ 

i ‘ Think of Him constantly now, and be obedient, 
gentle, loving as He was to Mary and Joseph in 
the little house at Nazareth!” 

At bed-time, Mr. Thorne limped slowly into 
Willie’s room, a pretty room where morning- 
glories clustered and cherub faces smiled. 

“Not in bed, Will? Why I thought you must 
have drifted off into Blanket Bay long before 
this,” laughed Uncle Gerald. 

Willie was standing on a chair before the pic- 
ture of Christ blessing little children, examining 
it very attentively. He turned as his Uncle Ger- 
ald spoke from the threshold. 

“Oh, Uncle Gerald, do you know Father Owen? 
He talked to us to-day at the church and I cried, 
Uncle Gerald, not baby-crying, you know, but be- 
cause what he said made me feel so happy in 
here,” and Willie pressed both hands to his 
breast. 

“You were so happy that you cried, eh!” teased 
Uncle Gerald, then very gently, “Yes, I know 
Jack Owen well. He was one of the little chaps 


168 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


when I was quite a good sized lad — a fine little 
fellow. He had a nice way of talking, even then, 
but mischievous ; he was brimming over with mis- 
chief I mean. Tell me what he said to-day, my 
boy, that you liked so much that it made you 
cry. ,, 

“He told us about what this picture means,’ ’ 
explained Willie-Frank, “and he taught us a 
poem, it was beautiful, one part was like this : 

“‘But Thou art my Shepherd, 

I Thy little lamb ; 

Take myself, dear Jesus, 

All I have and am.’ 

“I wish I could receive my First Holy Com- 
munion with Dolly and Ted and Jimmie, but if 
I’m very, very good, I may next year, Father 
Owen said.” 

Uncle Gerald sat and listened after Willie was 
in bed to the repetition of Father Owen’s words 
in Willie’s own vocabulary, and when he kissed 
his small nephew good-night he said seriously : 

“Grow up true to what Father Owen tells you, 
Willie, and I’ll feel that your dear Daddy’s wish 
for you will be realized. Dying, he said to me, 
‘I want my little boy to be a good man, Jerry; 
nothing else matters, old boy. ’ Father Owen can 
inspire the principles that make the best sort of 
men, I think. Good-night, Will, and pleasant 
dreams. ’ ’ 

“Uncle Jerry,” murmured Willie sleepily, 
“when I’m a man and have lots of money I want 


FATHER OWEN’S CLASS 


169 


to build a nice church in Stedley. I don’t like that 
old wooden house we use for our church now. I’d 
like a nice one made of stone and with a splendid 
gold cross on top of it.” 

Before Willie quite finished his wish his voice 
trailed otf into a drowsy whisper, but the happy 
smile of anticipation remained on his lips. 

Then Uncle Gerald went in to say good-night to 
his older boy — Ted. 


CHAPTER XVI 


LOST !— THE HEIR OF THORNE HOUSE 

P ERPLEXITY and sadness reigned in Sted- 
ley three days later. The news spread like 
wildfire from house to house that Willie 
Thorne was lost. No trace of the boy had been 
found since early morning. Dolly Lambert and 
he had started out together to look for Fleet 
Wing, the pigeon, which had failed to return from 
Kanton on Monday with its message from Mr. 
Lambert. 

Dolly was heart-broken and Willie-Frank had 
offered to go with her and search along the road, 
in case Fleet Wing had been hurt and was not 
able to fly. At noontime Dolly returned alone. 
She and Willie had walked as far as Hollister’s 
farm, but found no trace of the lost pigeon. 

While Dolly was talking to Hetty in the big 
sunny kitchen, Willie had gone out. When Dolly 
went to call him in time to start back home, he did 
not answer her summons. Though they looked 
for him about the farm and along the lake shore, 
the search was unsuccessful. 

“Probably cut across lots home and forgot ye, 
Dolly,” comforted Eben. “Boys are mostly 
thoughtless young critters, you know , 9 9 
170 


LOST!— THE HEIR OF THORNE HOUSE 171 


‘ 4 1 don ’t think Willie would run away like that, ’ 9 
said Holly, shaking her curly head. “Perhaps he 
went on down the road looking under the bushes 
for Fleet Wing.” 

Good-natured Hetty ordered Cy to harness Sue, 
her own old white horse, to the runabout, and she 
drove Dolly down the road for more than a mile. 
No sight of Willie-Frank gladdened their eyes. 
Then back to Thorne House they rode, firmly be- 
lieving that they would find him there, with some 
good excuse for his desertion of Dolly and the 
quest of Fleet Wing. 

But he was not there, and as hour after hour 
passed the household and all of Stedley, even peo- 
ple who had never met the little boy, were filled 
with anxiety and sorrow over his disappearance. 

Mr. Thorne was away. Mr. Stanley had ar- 
rived the day before at Thorne House and early 
on the day of Willie’s disappearance he and Mr. 
Thorne departed in the automobile which he had 
driven when he came down to Stedley to take 
Willie and Jimmie to Boston. Although he still 
suffered greatly from his injured foot, Mr. Thorne 
had felt that he must take a certain long journey 
on very important business at once. This was all 
that he had told Willie-Frank when he hade Ted 
and himself good-by, but he urged them to he 
happy and obey Mr. Stanley, who would come 
back to take care of them after taking him to the 
station in Boston. 

Upon his return that evening Mr. Stanley 
showed no outward signs of alarm when he heard 


172 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


the news. ‘ 4 Don ’t worry, ’ ’ he said quietly. “We 
will find Master William, I’m sure.” 

“This letter came for Mr. Thorne an hour ago, 
sir, ’ ’ said Baxter brokenly but dutifully, handing 
a soiled yellow envelope to Mr. Stanley. “A 
ragged sort of an urchin delivered it, sir. He 
nearly pulled the knocker from the door, sir, and 
when I reprimanded him he made a face at me 
and said something about his worrying, a queer 
slang remark, sir, it was, adding that he had 
earned a cart-wheel for delivering that note and 
that he guessed he’d go and spend it now. He 
said the man who sent it told him not to deliver it 
until six o’clock, sir.” 

“Very well, Baxter, thank you,” said Mr. Stan- 
ley, and he was about to lay the envelope down 
when something about it seemed to attract his at- 
tention and he tore it open hurriedly. He read 
its contents swiftly, then reread the lines again 
more slowly. When he looked up there was a fine 
white line about his mouth, a flash of just anger 
in his eyes. He stepped to the telephone and 
messages began to fly east, west, north and south. 
Detectives, Secret Service men, and influential 
friends of Mr. Thorne were notified of an act of 
treachery which aroused them all, stranger and 
friend alike. And a message went by night letter 
to Washington to greet Mr. Thorne’s arrival 
there that was destined to fill that gentleman’s 
heart with keenest anguish. 

The note which Mr. Stanley had read, boldly 
but firmly stated that Willie Thome’s safety de- 


LOST!— THE HEIR OF THORNE HOUSE 173’ 

A 

pended solely upon his uncle’s decision. Would 
he for a large compensation sell an invention, 
upon which he was known to be busy, to an alien 
power, or would he destroy his work entirely and 
desist from all further inventions until after the 
Great War. On his acceptance or refusal of these 
propositions rested the fate of his young nephew. 

Oh, the sadness and anxiety of the day that fol- 
lowed! The kidnapers had covered their tracks 
cleverly. Willie-Frank could not he found, but 
with unswerving patriotism an invention that 
meant much to Uncle Sam, an invention that was 
destined to combat greatly the menace of U-boat 
warfare, was submitted absolutely and unre- 
servedly- to the United States Government by Mr. 
Thorne. 

His first message in answer to Mr. Stanley’s 
telegram read: 

“Will be home to-morrow. Spare no expense. 
I will find him. They dare not harm him. G. 
Thorne.” 

On Sunday morning at nine o’clock Mass the 
ardent young disciples of Father Owen received 
the great Sacrament of the Holy Eucharist. The 
little girls, in soft, white dresses and snowy veils, 
went two by two with downcast eyes and upraised 
hands to the altar railing. Into innocent hearts, 
aflame with childish love and reverence, they re- 
ceived the Bread of Life for the first time. Then 
the boys, in neat black suits with white ribbon 
bands on their arms, went slowly up the altar 
steps in their turn. Ted Bemis lingered longer 


174 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


than his companions at the railing, as though he 
had lost all memory of time or place. 

Afterwards he told Father Owen in his halting, 
boyish way that “I’m sure Willie is safe and will 
be found soon, Father. I felt it somehow when I 
tried to say a welcome to Our Lord and when I 
promised Him I’d try to be a good boy always, 
and grow up to be a good man. ’ ’ 

“Did you ask our Lord to keep Willie safe in 
His care and restore him to us all V ’ asked Father 
Owen gently. 

“Yes, Father, I did,” answered Ted, flushing 
rosily. “You said our Lord wanted us to ask Him 
for something we needed very much, and that He 
would surely hear us on our First Communion 
Day in a most special manner. ’ ’ 

“So I did, Ted,” answered Father Owen, “and 
I am sure your fervent prayer will soon be an- 
swered, my boy.” 

“See what Mr. Thorne sent me from New York. 
He’s there now tracing one clew the detectives 
gave him, but he didn’t forget my Great Day, 
Father.” Ted held on high a silver rosary which 
caught the glint of sunbeams and flashed back a 
silvery glow. 

One by one, the children came after their 
thanksgiving to whisper in Father Owen’s ear 
what their first petition to the King of kings had 
been. In every case it was the same, and Father 
Owen’s eyes grew misty as he listened. 

‘ ‘ I meant to ask our Lord to make my Papa well 
very quickly,” confided Dolly Lambert, “but Papa 


LOST ! — THE HEIR OF THORNE HOUSE 175 


said no, to ask for Willie’s safety, and oh, I did, 
Father, oh I begged for it so hard.” 

“Father, after I thanked God for coming, like 
you told us to, I told Him please would He find 
Willie-Frank soon,” Jimmie Cleary stammered 
bashfully. 

Breakfast was served to all the First Communi- 
cants by old Mrs. Owen, Father Owen’s mother, 
and his good aunt, Miss Polly, in the pretty little 
yard of their neat cottage. They had begged so 
eagerly to have this pleasure that the parents of 
the children had joyfully and gratefully accepted 
the kind invitation for their little ones. What 
was the children’s delight to find that Father 
Owen himself was to sit at the head of the long 
table and eat breakfast with them. The spiritual 
joy of the golden day had been perfect for each 
child, and they now felt that all material joy 
would be perfect, too, if only Willie-Frank, their 
dear young comrade, was safe and laughing mer- 
rily with them once more. 

Early Tuesday morning Elbe Cleary, Dolly, 
Jimmie and Ted were walking briskly along the 
woodland road which lies between Kanton and 
Stedley. They were talking earnestly and did not 
realize the swift approach of an automobile until 
a sharp 4 4 honk, honk ’ ’ made them step nimbly up 
the banking at the side of the narrow thorough- 
fare. 

“Stop, Jake,” called a familiar voice, “these 
are young friends of mine, I’m sure. Why, Elbe 
and all you little folks, what in the world brings 


176 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


you so far in the woods this early in the day?” 
It was Uncle Gerald who leaned out to speak to 
the children — a tired, worn, harassed-looking 
Uncle Gerald, but as thoughtful and considerate 
as always. 

4 4 Jump in; there’s room and to spare for all of 
us, ’ 7 he continued. 4 4 Here, let me help you , 9 7 and 
out he stepped, slowly however, because of his 
foot which was still lame. “ And now tell me how 
you are and where you have been at such an early 
hour.” 

“To Mass and to Communion in Kanton, Mr. 
Thorne,” announced Dolly joyfully. “We are 
making a novena to the dear Sacred Heart of 
Jesus that you may find Willie soon.” 

“Ah,” said Mr. Thorne, quietly, “but why do 
you have to go so far as to Kanton to assist at 
Mass?” 

“ ’Cause we haven’t any church, you know. 
Not a real one with a pastor all our own,” ex- 
plained Jimmie. “We can only have Mass once 
a week in Stedley. To go every day we have to 
walk to Kanton.” 

“Walk to Kanton! You don’t mean that you 
walked to Kanton and back this morning?” 

“Oh, we’re not walking now, we’re riding,” 
Ellie reminded him blithely. 

A queer look crept over Uncle Gerald’s fine face, 
his strong lips quivered a little, he tugged at his 
motoring cap and looked ahead through a long 
vista of pine trees arching over a pine strewn 
road, but he saw it all through a mist of tears. 


LOST ! — THE HEIR OF THORNE HOUSE 177 


So they cared enough to make such a sacrifice, 
the brave little mites ! They had walked to Kan- 
ton to pray in a special and particular way for his 
little boy, the uncertainty of whose fate was 
branding itself in agony into his heart more ter- 
ribly than red-hot irons could have seared his 
flesh. 

“Mr. Thome,” said Ted, speaking for the first 
time, “I’m sorry, but Twinkle, the fox terrier, is 
lost. We can’t find him anywhere, and Curly is 
so heartbroken pining over Willie that old Giles 
is afraid he will die. He hasn’t tasted food lately 
at all. He only laps a little milk.” 

“Poor, faithful little fellow,” exclaimed Uncle 
Gerald, “perhaps I can coax him to eat. As for 
Twinkle, I hope we can find him. Will would be 
desolate indeed to find both pets missing upon his 
return. ’ ’ 

Mr. Thome spoke quite naturally, but his voice 
trembled ever so slightly over the mention of 
Willie ’s name. 

“Oh, look, look, there’s Twinkle now!” eagerly 
called out Dolly Lambert. 

Every one stared and Jake stopped the car. 
Tearing through the bushes at the side of the road 
came Twinkle. He barked as though he recog- 
nized Mr. Thorne and the rest, and then tore back 
through the brambles again. 

“He has found a clew,” cried Uncle Gerald, as 
he swung himself out and after the small dog as 
fast as his lameness would permit. 

The boys and Ellie and Dolly followed eagerly. 


178 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


Mr. Jake was obliged to remain at the wheel, but 
he looked as eager and excited as the others. 

Poor Twinkle was a sorry looking dog. He 
looked hungry and sad and neglected, but he 
wagged his stubby tail and ran straight back to a 
small soft object over which he was keeping guard. 

“Willie’s cap!” shouted Ted. 

Mr. Thorne raised the tiny brown cap and held 
it tenderly in a hand that trembled a little. 
“Twinkle followed the scent thus far,” he ex- 
plained quietly. ‘ ‘ Good dog, good Twinkle, where 
did they take him after that, Twink?” But the 
dog only whined pitifully and crouched at Mr. 
Thorne’s feet as if' ashamed to acknowledge that 
his keen powers had failed him so early in the 
search. 

“Ah, he was probably carried from here by 
some one else,” commented Mr. Thorne, “and that 
is why Twinkle is unable to help us. ’ ’ 

“Cheer up, Twinkle, this is a clew, anyway; but 
for you we might not have found even this.” 

“Here is another clew,” said Ellie softly, and 
raised a pigeon’s quill in her hand from which 
trailed a silken thread. 

“Oh, it’s the quill in which Papa sent messages 
to me by Fleet Wing, ’ ’ exclaimed Dolly. ‘ 4 1 know 
it is.” 

Sure enough, inside the quill, safe and clear, 
was the last note that Mr. Lambert had sent, and 
which Fleet Wing had never delivered. 

“Willie must have roamed as far as this in 
search of the bird,” said Uncle Gerald, piecing 


LOST!— THE HEIR OF THORNE HOUSE 179 


the different bits of information together like a 
picture puzzle. “Under this tree he found Fleet 
Wing hurt, perhaps, and unable to fly. He untied 
the message from its wing and was probably busy 
helping the bird when the kidnapers overtook 
him and carried him away.” 

“But where is Fleet Wing, I wonder,” said 
Dolly. 

“Probably flew away a short distance, if able, 
in fright,” explained Uncle Gerald, “and I fear 
may be around here suffering even now.” 

But no trace of the bird could be found. The 
boys promised Dolly to return and look for her 
pet later, but now Mr. Thorne was eager to reach 
Thome House and give news of the clew which 
Twinkle had found to the Secret Service men and 
detectives. Of course, Twinkle went back with 
them in the machine to Stedley. 

Dolly sat down to breakfast half an hour later 
and was eagerly telling Mrs. MacDonald of their 
morning adventure in the woods when, with a 
whirr of wings and soft, sweet ‘ ‘ coo-coo ’ ’ straight 
in through the open kitchen window flew Fleet 
Wing and nestled against Dolly’s cheek and 
perched upon her shoulder. 

“Oh, see! see! see! It’s Fleet Wing, dear 
Fleet Wing. Where did he come from — and, oh, 
maybe Willie-Frank will come soon, too. Fleet 
Wing, where is Willie-Frank?” 

“Coo-coo-coo,” was the plaintive answer. 

“Oh, poor Fleet Wing, your little leg is hurt 
and some one has bandaged it, poor, poor Fleet 


180 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


Wing,” murmured Dolly, holding her pet care- 
fully and examining the slender leg ruefully. Old 
Mrs. MacDonald put on her spectacles and came 
over to Dolly’s side to look at the injured bird. 

4 ‘Why, dearie, I think it’s a message he’s 
brought ye. It was tied around his leg by some 
one who did not know how to tie it under his 
wing. ’ ’ 

Sure enough, securely fastened by a strong, 
slender strand of meadow grass to Fleet Wing’s 
tiny leg was a strip of thin, dirty brown paper, 
and on it was printed a strange message. Willie- 
Frank tripped up in spelling occasionally. 

“Dear Dolly — I have eskaped. Pleese tell 
Uncle Gerald come to meet me if he can on the 
road from Boston. I’m tired to death. — Willie 
Thorne.” 

“Run, Dolly, run as fast as yere wee feet can 
carry ye to Thorne House,” commanded the old 
lady, “and give this note to Mr. Thorne. ’Tis 
saying the Joyful Mysteries of my rosary I’ll be 
in thanksgiving while ye ’re gone. ’ ’ 

And Dolly needed no urging. With fleetness 
almost equal to her trusty little pigeon’s, she sped 
up the driveway to the side entrance and burst 
into Uncle Gerald’s den, breathless and eager- 
eyed. 

‘ ‘ A letter from Willie. Fleet Wing brought it, ’ ’ 
she gasped, as she held aloft the tiny scrap of 
paper. 

For the first time during these terrible days of 
sorrow and suspense Mr. Thorne’s external calm- 


LOST!— THE HEIR OF THORNE HOUSE 181 


ness gave way. At the sight of that dear, printed, 
boyish note he sobbed, a man’s great, hoarse, dry 
sob of overcharged feelings. Then before Dolly 
or any one else knew how it happened, he had her 
in his arms, rushed out with her, and tucked her 
into the automobile, which was still standing where 
Jake had left it in front of the stone lions, in 
readiness for Mr. Thorne’s next trip. He also 
picked up Curly, limp, sorrowing Curly, and 
tossed him in beside Dolly. He whistled for 
Twinkle, he called for Ted, and when boy and dog 
appeared, he shouted joyously. “In with you, 
Ted. Move quickly ! In, Twinkle ! We are off to 
meet my boy. He’s safe and trying to find his 
way home alone, the plucky little chap ! ’ ’ 

“Hurrah!” yelled Ted, jumping into the front 
seat. 

“Bow-wow,” echoed Twinkle, as though he 
understood. 

“Hurrah, indeed!” exclaimed Mr. Thorne as 
he slid into Mr. Jake’s place at the wheel and sent 
the car spinning down the driveway and out be- 
tween the huge iron entrance gates. Then, at 
something far beyond the speed limit, the shining 
brown machine shot over the road Bostonward. 

‘ 1 Thank God ! ’ ’ Ted heard Mr. Thorne murmur 
once, and he said it as though his gratitude arose 
from the very depths of his heart. Other than 
that fervent prayer, however, Uncle Gerald was a 
silent host that day to the two children with whom 
he was racing away from Stedley. On and on, 
faster and faster, they flew. The dust rose in 


182 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


clouds behind them. Dogs barked, and from the 
machine Twinkle answered them joyfully. Chil- 
dren tried to chase after them and shouted loudly, 
only to fall back laughing and breathless. Ted’s 
hat blew off, but Uncle Gerald never heeded the 
shout the boy gave. 

But after awhile Mr. Thorne was obliged to pro- 
ceed more slowly. The hot noon-day sun was 
burning down upon the highway by this time, and 
as he rounded one abrupt curve in the road he 
saw a fruit and vegetable wagon slowly advanc- 
ing. Its driver, a pleasant-faced Greek merchant, 
was waving his arms at our travelers as though to 
attract their attention. 

“Here’s a good chance for you and Dolly to 
have a lunch, Ted, ’ ’ exclaimed Mr. Thorne, speak- 
ing for the first time in hours. “'Take this bill 
and buy some fruit for yourselves. That man 
must be anxious to sell his wares, poor fellow, 
when he tries to hold us up in this fashion.” 


CHAPTER XVII 


WILLIE-FRANK AND FLEET WING 

W ITH a snort of protest, followed by a little 
purring sound of acquiescence, the beau- 
tiful, big, brown car stopped. But before 
Ted could bound out to do Mr. Thorne’s bidding, 
the vegetable man ’s young assistant climbed down 
from his seat hastily. He had a box of luscious 
cherries in his hand as he ran eagerly toward the 
automobile, calling out something in a hoarse little 
voice. He was a ragged specimen of childhood, 
but picturesque, nevertheless. His small but 
sturdy legs were bare, dirty and scratched by 
brambles. His only visible garment was a man’s 
soiled blue jumper. It enveloped the boy in 
clumsy folds and looked like a scarecrow’s rai- 
ment, but his hair was a crop of jet black curls. 
His skin was so dark that he reminded one of a 
young gypsy, and jauntily over his left ear bobbed 
a vivid wild red rose. 

Dolly seemed delighted with the appearance of 
this queer, foreign-looking little creature. She 
smiled at him, but the child had eyes only for Mr. 
Thorne. He stretched out his ragged little arms 
to him and tried to call out again, but his voice 
was only a whisper. 

Mr. Thorne slipped his hand into his pocket once 
183 


184 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


more. The lad was about Willie’s age and size 
and build. “Poor little fellow,” Uncle Gerald 
thought, “for Willie’s sake I must give him some- 
thing. I can’t bear to see any child neglected 
when I remember how I suffered these days think- 
ing of neglect and cruelty enfolding Will,” and he 
shuddered as the memory of some of his past fears 
returned to him. 

But Twinkle, usually so sweet-tempered, ap- 
parently took offense at the small fruit-seller’s 
appearance, for with a sharp bark and a low warn- 
ing growl, he leaped from the car and straight at 
the child. 

“Don’t be afraid. He won’t hurt you,” cried 
out Mr. Thorne, reassuringly, for the ragged little 
boy had dropped his box of cherries, and the 
bright fruit rolled out, making sparkling little dots 
of bright color in the thick yellow dust of the 
road. 

“Down, Twinkle. Do you hear me, sir? Don’t 
you dare to touch him. ’ ’ Crisp and stern was the 
command. Uncle Gerald was out of the car before 
Ted could say “Jack Robinson” (if bewildered 
Ted had by any chance wanted to say such a 
thing), and strode over to seize Twinkle by the 
collar. 

“Why, Twinkle’s not biting him, Mr. Thorne, 
he’s kissing him,” exclaimed Dolly excitedly, and 
as Mr. Thorne stooped over the boy, what was his 
surprise to see blue eyes that were strangely fa- 
miliar. The child threw his arms around Mr. 
Thorne’s neck. 


WILLIE-FRANK AND FLEET WING 185 


‘ ‘ Don’t you know me, Uncle Gerald? Why, I’m 
Willie-Frank, ’ ’ croaked a very hoarse, croupy 
voice, hut not so hoarse that the love in it could 
be mistaken. 

“Yees, sir,” explained the Greek fruit dealer 
advancing, smiling and bowing. ‘ 4 The leetle boy, 
he ride with me and help me yesterday. He sleep 
with me on my blanket all night. We buy more 
fruit and vegetables to-day, and again he help me 
and he say to watch for every big automobile, 
and wave to every big man with gray hair I see. 
Pore leetle boy, he has had a hard time. I lend 
him my coat.” 

“Yes, Constantine has been ever so good to 
me, Uncle Gerald. He gave me these cherries 
and I was cold, ’cause I have only pajamas on 
under this coat of his. He let me take this to 
cover ’em up, and he put his horse ’s blanket over 
me last night.” 

True enough, a thin suit of pajamas were Wil- 
lie’s only garments under the dirty blue jumper. 
But the plucky little fellow could say no more, 
for strong arms had caught him up in a bear-like 
embrace, strong lips that quivered at the pitiable 
sight of him covered his tear-stained little face 
with kisses, and a big tear dropped down on to 
the old blue jumper. 

“My good man,” said Mr. Thorne some mo- 
ments later to the Greek, “how much is that load 
of vegetables worth? I’ll buy them at twice their 
value and you can give them away to any poor 
people that you know along your route. Tell me 


186 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


at what address I can write to or see you. I want 
to talk with you on business which will be to your 
advantage. ’ ’ 

As the automobile sped back towards Stedley, 
its juvenile occupants stood up and waved their 
hands to the smiling Greek, who, after putting the 
roll of bills in his pocket, proceeded to put Mr. 
Thorne’s card in his hat for safe keeping. He 
sang all the rest of that day as he jogged along 
his route, obeying Mr. Thorne’s instructions and 
giving of his fresh, fine wares to those who would 
have been too poor to buy them from him at the 
usual price. 

And Willie-Frank? Well, Mr. Thorne wrapped 
him up in one of the rich robes stored away in 
the automobile and forbade him to speak a word 
until he had been rested and nourished, poor child. 
“Just sit there and smile at us, Bill. We will do 
all the talking, dear, until you are quite yourself 
again,” and saying this Uncle Gerald looked at 
Willie with such love and longing in his glance 
that it really seemed as though he could never see 
enough of that, bright boyish face. A frown of 
grave displeasure and a set, stem line about his 
mouth both deepened, however, when he realized 
that Willie’s fair hair had been dyed jet black and 
that his skin had been stained to a dark, foreign- 
looking tint. 

How Dolly and Ted chattered and laughed and 
clapped their hands ! How Twinkle did bark and 
yelp and jump up again and again to kiss his dear 
little master’s face! He couldn’t help growling 


WILLIE-FRANK AND FLEET WING 187 


though occasionally at the queer, unfamiliar ap- 
pearance of his beloved Willie-Frank, but then 
wasn’t he a smart enough little dog to know his 
master under any disguise? 

But what about Curly, you are all asking in 
most disappointed tones, I know you are. A 
weak, sober, tottering Curly had risen on uncer- 
tain woolly legs when the commotion in the road 
below had occurred, and had blinked his eyes in a 
dazed sort of way and had given a feeble “yap, 
yap!” but when Willie, black-haired and brown- 
faced though he was, bent over him and croaked 
out, “Curly, old boy, don’t you know me?” his 
love, too, penetrated that hideous disguise, and 
his pink tongue eagerly tried to wash that horrid 
stain off his dear master’s face as he .joyfully 
gave a feeble but decided “Yap, Yap, Yap!” 

For a couple of days our hero was a very fever- 
ish, croupy little person. 

The story which he told Mr. Thorne when he 
was able, I will tell as briefly as I can. 

When Willie left Dolly in Hetty’s sunny kitchen 
on the morning of his disappearance from Sted- 
ley, he had been unable to find Eben, and so had 
strolled along the road to see if he could find any 
trace of Fleet Wing. He found the bird under 
the tree where Twinkle afterwards found his cap, 
and the boy had been guided to the spot by Fleet 
Wing’s plaintive “coo-coo.” The pigeon was 
hurt, and Willie sat down to try and ease its suf- 
ferings. Suddenly a twig snapped behind him 
and he looked up to see the man in the checkered 


188 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


suit who had given himself, Jimmie, and the 
Grants a sail on the pond in Boston, looking down 
at him. 

‘ ‘ Hello ! ’ ’ Willie had said pleasantly. ‘ ‘ Ho you 
live up here, too?” 

Without replying, the man seized him, and hold- 
ing him firmly, pressed a handkerchief over his 
nose and mouth. Willie had rebelled against both 
the seizure and the sickly, horrid odor of the 
handkerchief. 

“Don’t be afraid,” the man said softly, “I 
don’t intend to hurt you.” 

“I’m not afraid,” Willie had sputtered. “Let 
me down.” With his sturdy little heels he had 
emphasized this demand, but he couldn’t remem- 
ber any more after that for quite a while. In a 
hazy sort of way he recalled waking up and find- 
ing himself in the arms of some one who must 
have been in the act of springing from the steps 
of a moving train, for Willie remembered the 
iron hand rail and that his head had struck vio- 
lently against it. 

“After that it was a long time before I woke 
up at all,” he explained, “and when I did I was 
in a big bed in a great big room, and a fat lady 
with a blue dress was giving me a drink. 

“ ‘ Don’t say a word, duckie, about who you are 
or where you came from,’ she urged, ‘and you 
can soon go back to your people, but if you scream 
and carry on you may never see your folks again, 
but anyhow we don’t intend to hurt you.’ ” 

Something soft and alive moved under his hand. 


WILLIE-FRANK AND FLEET WING 189 


He looked down, and there on the bed beside him 
rested Fleet Wing, watching him with bright bead- 
like eyes. The fat lady smiled when Willie ex- 
claimed joyfully: 

1 1 Oh, Fleet Wing, I ’m so glad to see you . 1 9 She 
then told him that the man in the checkered suit, 
her husband, had not wanted to hurt him because 
he “liked him for a plucky little lad,” as she ex- 
pressed it, and he felt so sorry for what he had 
to do that he brought “your bird along to keep 
you company.” 

Little by little, Willie grew stronger, and one 
afternoon awoke to find the air very hot, and the 
fat lady sound asleep in her chair near the bed. 
It looked so nice outside the window that Willie 
longed to look out. He got up and crossed the 
room. The lady still slept. Suddenly a sound 
which he dearly loved fell upon his ear, the scream 
of a fast flying locomotive. He pressed his face 
against the screen and, sure enough, a big engine 
and its train of fascinating cars flew by — but, oh, 
what excitement for Willie. Why, there right be- 
low his window, across the street, stretched the 
tracks. It was a railroad crossing, and he recog- 
nized it as the one at which Mr. Stanley and 
Jimmie and himself had waited on their trip to 
Boston. He remembered it specially because 
coming back from Boston with Uncle Gerald they 
had crossed it, too, and Willie remembered dis- 
tinctly the little red country store with the big 
tree in front on the other side. He had bought 
peanuts and candy there. 


190 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


Just then Fleet Wing flew over to the window 
ledge beside him and cooed. 

“ You want to go, to®, don’t you, Fleet Wing?” 
the little hoy said. “Well, we will. I know the 
way, I bet I do, and if we can get out I’ll run so 
fast they’ll never catch us.” He acted on the im- 
pulse swiftly. He didn’t stop to look for clothes, 
but, just as he was, with Fleet Wing under his 
arm, he crept out into the hall. The screen-door 
was hooked on the inside. Standing on tiptoe the 
child unfastened it, and while his guardian still 
slept, stepped out onto the sunlit porch and bound- 
ed down the path on to the dusty country road 
and freedom! 

He ran as fast as his bare feet could carry him, 
but he was still a bit shaky, and his head ached, 
so that he finally climbed over a stone wall and 
hid behind it with Fleet Wing beside him until 
he felt rested. It was here that he noticed that 
Fleet Wing was quite well again and eager to fly. 
The bird would fly off a distance and then return 
to Willie and flutter in the grass at his feet. Then 
the idea popped into Willie ’s head to send a mes- 
sage by the pigeon. Of course, Fleet Wing was 
too smart to fly away without a letter to carry, 
Willie decided, and caressed the pretty bird. A 
little boy clad only in pajamas is not apt to have 
pencil and paper about him, and it wasn’t until 
late that afternoon when he met Constantine, the 
good-natured vegetable man, that Willie could 
write his note and tie it to Fleet Wing’s short, 
slender leg. 


WILLIE-FRANK AND FLEET WING 191 


After Fleet Wing soared aloft, Constantine and 
Willie rode along, happy in each other’s company. 
The kind Greek had pnt his own blue jumper over 
the child’s thin night suit. He was much inter- 
ested in Willie’s story, and thought him a most 
wonderful child to have gone through such an 
adventure. 

“You are a very smart leetle hoy,” he said in 
soft broken English. 

“It wasn’t smart to run away,” explained 
Willie frankly. “The fat lady was asleep. If 
she had been awake I’d be there yet.” 

Willie never was able to tell any one when or 
how his hair had been dyed or his skin stained. 
It was probably done while he was unconscious 
the very first night. 

When officers of the law, following Mr. Thorne’s 
instructions, went to a certain house situated near 
a railroad crossing some few miles from Boston 
the next day, they of course found the house de- 
serted. The owner, a nervous, fretty old lady, 
when interviewed, entertained the officers with 
what they termed “a sob story” of the man and 
woman who had rented it furnished a month ago 
but who had vacated it suddenly and without no- 
tice and had not paid her one red penny of the 
rent. 

In New York some months later a man answer- 
ing to the description of Willie’s captor was ar- 
rested as a suspicious character, and later was 
proven to be an employee of a hostile govern- 
ment. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


A FAREWELL PARTY IN HERMIT’S CAVE 

T HE island looked very festive. A flag waved 
over the cave. On the sand in front of it 
was spread a snowy cloth. Good things of 
all kinds were temptingly arranged. A boat was 
moored in a temporary harbor a few yards np the 
shore. A canoe was hauled up high and dry not 
far from the banquet table. 

It was Elbe’s birthday present from her fam- 
ily, and this was Elbe’s birthday party on the 
island. 

Elbe wore a white middy blouse and linen skirt. 
Her fair skin had become tanned from much out- 
door bfe, her eyes were deep blue and her hair 
feb over her shoulders in two long golden plaits. 
No wonder the children all loved her. She had a 
merry but gentle countenance. 

‘‘Sit down, ladies and gentlemen,” she invited 
gayly, and her young friends hurried to obey her. 

They saw before them sandwiches and radishes, 
chicken salad, hard boiled eggs, chocolate frosted 
ginger-bread, candy and cream puffs, and last and 
best of ab Elbe ’s birthday cake. It had been made 
by her mother and it had been borne across the 
lake by Ted, who had flatly refused to take any 
192 


A FAREWELL PARTY 


193 


one aboard until this frosted delicacy had been 
safely landed. 

‘ ‘ Oh, the candles will not stay lighted, ’ ’ moaned 
Nettie King, a fretty little girl, as the mischiev- 
ous breeze blew out one of the fifteen pink candles. 

“I’ll blow them out right away then,” respond- 
ed Ellie brightly. “I must if I want to get my 
wish. One, two, three, ready — Puff-puff -puff , ” 
and each shining torch spluttered and flickered 
and died away in a tiny curl of smoke. 

“May I go over to Ted’s boat for a minute, 
Ellie!” asked Dolly, looking very important. 

All the boys and girls began to smile and some 
laughed as though they knew a merry secret. Ted 
shook his head and scowled at those who at- 
tempted to whisper. 

“You’d spoil anything,” he said in a low warn- 
ing voice to Ray Lester, who was making very 
peculiar gestures with the deaf and dumb alpha- 
bet for Ellie ’s benefit. 

But Ellie was quite unconscious of all this 
hushed excitement. She looked at Dolly with 
some surprise but assented politely to the little 
girl’s request. Ellie had begun to cut the famous 
cake and to distribute its rich slices when a queer, 
squeaky voice at her elbow made her jump. 

All the children began to laugh heartily. 

“If you please, I’ll have some of that cake,” 
said the voice. 

Ellie turned. There stood a tiny stooped crea- 
ture. Over her shoulders hung a long blue cloak, 
on her head was a high steepled hat ; she tottered 


194 WILLIE-FEANK OF STEDLEY 


a tiny bit as she bent over her cane on which she 
leaned heavily. 

Ellie, overcoming her first surprise, laughed 
gleefully and entered into the game with delight. 

“Certainly you may have some of my cake, 
dear madam,’ ’ she answered sweetly, “but will 
you tell me your name and from whence you 
come ? ’ ’ 

“I am your fairy godmother,” the droll voice 
continued. ‘ 4 1 rode on my white swan from fairy- 
land to-day to give you three wishes.” 

“Oh, thank you kindly, ma’am,” replied Ellie 
pleasantly, delighting her audience by dropping 
the fairy godmother a nice curtsey. 

“May I have anything I ask for, dear god- 
mother?” 

“Yes,” responded the fairy, almost forgetting 
to disguise her voice. 

“Mind that you wish for the same three things 
you did the last time we played, ’ ’ warned Jimmie 
in an eager wdiisper. 

“Keep still, Jim, or you’ll give the joke away,” 
commanded Ted. 

“Be sure and ask for a gold ring, Ellie,” ad- 
vised Willie-Frank, so excited that he was hop- 
ping up and down quite wildly. 

“Hush!” warned Ted, suddenly clapping his 
hand over Willie’s tell-tale mouth and muffling the 
youngster. 

Ellie shut her eyes and extended her hands : 

“I wish for a garden full of roses,” she chanted, 
according to the rules of the game. 


A FAREWELL PARTY 


195 


* c Behold !” said the godmother gravely. 

Still with eyelids shut tightly Ellie pronounced 
her second request : 

“I wish for a pony to ride upon.” 

“Behold!” repeated the fairy more solemnly 
than before. 

“And last of all,” declared Ellie, “I crave a 
ring of gold and set with precious stones, your 
royal highness.” 

“Your three wishes are granted. Behold!” 
The fairy fairly screamed, but the squeak in the 
voice vanished, it was Dolly Lambert’s sweet 
treble that made the final announcement, and it 
was Dolly Lambert who stood before Ellie when 
she opened her eyes — a rosy, roguish, blissful 
Dolly beneath the high steepled hat made of brown 
paper and under the folds of Elbe’s own blue 
military cape. 

“You darling,” exclaimed Ellie, hugging her. 
“You acted your part to perfection, Dolly. At 
our next candy show we can have real theatricals. 
You are splendid.” 

“Oh, look! look!” shouted the other children, 
crowding around her. 

“You did not even peep at your fairy gifts!” 
protested Willie. 

“I will peep now,” said Ellie gleefully. Of 
course she did not expect real gifts. This fairy 
game was always a favorite pastime at these 
island parties, and it was a rule in Stedley that 
at birthday celebrations the guests bring no gifts. 


196 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


Their presence was all that the host or hostess 
desired. 

Imagine then Elbe’s astonishment when she 
saw heaped on the tablecloth at her place dewy 
clusters of fragrant roses cut from the Thome 
House rose gardens. These represented her first 
wish. In front of her plate stood a candy horse 
with cherry-colored ribbon for a harness. How 
Elbe laughed at that! This was wish number 
two. The great surprise, however, was the small 
white box that lay near the candy horse. 

“Open it, open it,” clamored all her little 
friends. 

Perplexed, Elbe obeyed. She gave one look at 
the contents and gazed around with shining eyes. 
Then she dropped down on the sand and began 
to cry. 

“Oh, Elbe, don’t you like iff” 

“What’s the matter, El!” the discouraged 
youngsters asked with keen disappointment. 

“Like it! Why, you darlings, I love it, but — 
but I’m so happy I don’t know what to say,” ex- 
claimed Elbe, raising a face on which tears and 
smiles struggled for supremacy. 

“Mrs. MacDonald said you were grown up now, 
Elbe,” confessed Dolly, half sadly. “She told us 
she didn’t think you’d play with us much more 
or ever have another birthday party for us after 
this. She said big girls ask older folks to their 
parties and not children, so we wanted to give 
you a present to remember us by and to tell you 
forever and forever that we love you.” 


A FAREWELL PARTY 


197 


“You b$t,” chimed in the boys. 

Ellie slipped the dainty ring set with a row of 
tiny turquoise on her finger and tried to hug all 
the children at once. 

“I’m not grown up. I’ll always play with you, 
and we will have our parties as long as I live,” 
she declared with vehemence. ‘ ‘ Oh, I ’m so happy. 
I don’t know how to tell you about it,” she sang 
joyously. “It was too much, though,” she added 
regretfully, realizing that the pretty trinket had 
cost each child many precious pennies. 

“Mr. Thorne chose it for us,” confided Dolly. 
“We told him you liked that blue stone.” 

“It is beautiful, beautiful,” praised Ellie. 

“Oh, look!” shouted Dick Smith. 

Chug — chug — chug, over the shining water 
came Mr. Thorne’s motor boat, but a girl was at 
the helm and a smaller girl waved to the group 
on the island. 

“Cheers! Cheers!” screamed Willie, dancing a 
regular horn-pipe. “It’s Miss Janet.” 

“It’s Augusta,” added Jimmie. 

“May we come to your party?” called Janet’s 
silvery voice. 

“We have ice cream in a freezer,” chirped Au- 
gusta gayly. “It’s chocolate.” 

Down to the edge of the shore rushed the mem- 
bers of Elbe’s party. 

Janet and her dear little cousin were gladly 
welcomed. 

“Mamma and Daddy are over there, too. We 


198 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


came all the way from Beverly by auto/’ ex- 
plained Augusta to Willie. 

“We wanted to see for ourselves that our dear 
little Willie-Frank was really and truly found ,’ ’ 
said Miss Janet blithely, putting her hands on 
Willie’s shoulders and regarding him fondly. 

“Hip, hip, hurrah! I’m glad you did,” yelled 
the boy jubilantly. 

“Why, you look just the same as ever,” con- 
fided Augusta to him after surveying him with 
much surprise for a few moments. “I thought 
your hair was black now, and that your face was, 
too.” 

“His face is,” chaffed Ted roguishly, and 
everybody laughed, for digging for treasures is 
hot and dirty work, and our hero had not suc- 
ceeded in removing all evidences of what had been 
his toil before sitting down to the banquet. 

“Ha, ha!” gurgled Jimmie Cleary. “Augusta 
thought you’d look like a darkey now, Will.” 

“Yes,” nodded Augusta, her eyes beginning to 
twinkle. 

“His hair is much darker than it was,” said 
Miss Janet ruefully. 

“Oh, but Rosalie hopes to get it back to its own 
color after awhile,” chimed in Elbe eagerly. 
“She washes it with a solution which she knows 
is good nearly every day, and it has helped won- 
derfully. See how white his skin is,” she added, 
patting Willie’s cheek. “The horrid brown stain 
that the people who stole him used on it came off 
quite nicely.” 


A FABEWELL PABTY 


199 


“I liked him to have black hair,” said Dolly 
Lambert regretfully. “He looked like a twin to 
me then, because his hair curls like mine does.” 

“Yes, Dolly, but my curls are short,” protested 
Willie, eager to remind every one that the days of 
long girlish curls were over for him forever. “I 
don’t like curls for boys,” he added. “I put soap 
on mine to keep ’em down. ’ ’ 

“Oh, I just love curls,” cried out Augusta ve- 
hemently, looking at Dolly admiringly. 

In that fashion Augusta and Dolly became ac- 
quainted. They seemed to delight in each other at 
first sight. To the tune of merry laughter and 
chattering tongues, the ice cream disappeared. 
Curly and Twinkle enjoyed their share very 
much. Curly remembered Augusta instantly and, 
as at their first meeting, he lay near her while 
she was seated, and followed her devotedly when 
she walked or ran about. 

While all hands were busy clearing away the 
remains of the feast and replacing the baskets, 
Miss Janet went over to the motor boat, stooped 
and came back with a large square pink box in 
her hands. 

“Another present for you, dear,” she said to 
Ellie; “we brought it to Willie-Frank, but I know 
he would want you to have it since it is your 
birthday, and Augusta and I have no other gift 
to offer.” 

“Fine, fine,” exclaimed Willie, clapping his 
hands in high glee. “Open it, Ellie, open it; it 
looks pretty.” 


200 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 


“But it is really yours, dear,” protested Ellie. 
“I couldn’t take your present, Willie.” 

“Yes, you must, you must, I want you to,” the 
boy urged. “Oh, see, Ellie, there’s a letter on 
top. It has your name on it. ’ ’ 

“Yes,” continued Miss Janet, smiling, “that is 
a note to you from Mr. Thorne, Ellie. He said 
to deliver it to you when the feast was over.” 

The contents of the lovely pink box proved to 
be bonbons and chocolates, each in a “pretty 
white frilly cap,” as Dolly Lambert said enthusi- 
astically. 

Seated in a circle enjoying these new dainties, 
the happy young people watched Ellie as with 
eager fingers she opened the big white envelope 
which contained Mr. Thome’s message. On a 
gayly colored card which represented a hunting 
scene with ladies and gentlemen in bright red 
coats, galloping on horseback after a pack of 
hounds, was written in his clear, dashing hand : 

“Come, let us all a-hunting go, 

Be swift, for the prize eludes the slow! 

Search till you find an old spruce tree, 

There, my second note will be.” 

Can you guess what happened as Ellie read the 
lines aloud? Well, with joyful shouts and merry 
peals of laughter, every one scrambled to their 
feet and rushed off to find that old spruce tree. 

“ It ’s a hunting game ! ” “ Oh, isn ’t this fun ? ’ ’ 
“Mr. Thorne always thinks of jolly things,” were 
the happy comments to be heard right and left. 


A FAREWELL PARTY 


201 


Little Augusta was fortunate enough to find the 
particular tree first, and so she read the second 
note which had been cleverly fastened to its trunk. 

“A treasure — a treasure — to have and to hold. 

More precious than jewels or silver or gold. 

Is hidden away in the hermit’s old cave. 

So hurry to find it. Be patient and brave.” 

‘ 4 There is a treasure, hurrah, hurrah ! ’ ’ shouted 
Bob Evans exultantly. “I always said I’d find 
it and I will. ’ ’ 

“You’ll divide up with me, won’t you, Bob? 
I’m your chum, you know,” reminded Ray Lester, 
hurrying after Bob so fast that he tripped over a 
rock and skinned his knee. Even that didn’t de- 
lay him, however; he just clapped his hand over 
the injured member and hobbled along as fast as 
he could, towards the spot whither every one was 
flying — Hermit’s Cave. 

They searched, and they searched, and they 
searched. 

‘ ‘ See what Curly has brought me in his mouth, ’ ’ 
laughed Willie-Frank. “Poor Curly, he’s trying 
to help find the treasure, too. Ha, ha! Why, 
Curly, old chap, that’s only a rag.” 

But Curly shook what Willie called a rag and 
gave it a little toss into the air. A rustling sound 
attracted Miss Janet’s attention. 

“It’s not a rag, you silly little boy,” she said, 
giving Willie a playful pat on the head. “It’s an 
oilskin bag, and there is something inside it. 
Curly has found the treasure and is giving it to 
you.” 


202 WILLIE-FRANK OF STEDLEY 

It was a tense moment. Willie’s eager fingers 
were pulling at the string of the bag when he 
looked up suddenly and smiled at Ellie, and man- 
fully marched over to her: 

“Here, Ellie, you open it. It’s your birthday. 
I ’d rather you would. ’ ’ He teased her so hard to 
do so that Ellie consented at last. 

Out of the bag her fingers drew a letter. It 
ran: 

“Dear Young Folks of Stedley: 

“The land on Lake Street, which borders 
Thorne House gardens and rises to a slight eleva- 
tion overlooking Stedley Lake, has been deeded to 
the Catholics of Stedley, and a sum of money has 
been placed on interest at Beacon Bank in Kanton 
for the erection of a Catholic church in Stedley. 
This is but a small expression of my gratitude to 
God for the safety of Willie-Frank, and a slight 
testimonial of esteem to Miss Ellie Cleary, Miss 
Dolly Lambert, Master Ted Bemis and Master 
Jimmie Cleary for the long pilgrimage they made 
daily to Kanton to offer up a novena for my little 
nephew’s safety. 

“I knew of no better day to make known these 
facts than this anniversary which Miss Ellie 
Cleary is so generously celebrating with her little 
friends. 

“May God bless you all, my dear children, and 
may you live long to enjoy the blessings of your 
Church. Affectionately yours, 

i 6 Gerald Thorne. ’ ’ 


A FAREWELL PARTY 


203 


And that is how Stedley came to have its lovely 
church of stone with the golden cross of Willie ’s 
desire shining over it. 

But, there, I am running ahead of my story, so 
let us return now to the island and there bid our 
young friends a fond farewell. If you have 
learned to love them, perhaps we will follow their 
other adventures later. 

Let us imagine we are pushing off from Stedley 
Island and sailing away. 

* ‘ Bow- wow- wow, bow-wow- wow ! ’ ’ That must 
be Twinkle running along the shore. He wants to 
speed the parting guests. 

“ Yap-yap-yap !” Pretty Curly refuses to be 
forgotten. 

Let us call back to the cunning pet : 

4 ‘ Good-by, Curly!” 

Can you see him in fancy roll over on the sand 
in delight and wave his tiny paws? See the two 
dainty little girls waving their hands to us as they 
stand side by side beneath the rocky ledge of Her- 
mit ? s Cave. They are sweet Augusta and merry 
Dolly. 

No doubt Willie-Frank calls after us, tossing his 
cap in the air : 

“ Good-by! Good-by! Good-by, till we meet 
again.” 


THE END 


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